


The Day Time Crashed In On Itself

by Itscompligayted



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Curses, Fantasy, Friendship, Humor, Multi, Supernatural Elements, Team Bonding, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It, World Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-06-29 05:56:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,413
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19823944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Itscompligayted/pseuds/Itscompligayted
Summary: Dumbledore and Lucius have been employed by the CIA in order to deter Fox Mulder after his attempts to find the wizarding world. When driving through Private Drive to remove Mrs Figgs demonic cats, they hit something, they've just killed a 10 year old Harry Potter! When King Joffrey dies, he wakes up to find himself in the body of the now-dead boy-who-lived...





	1. And then the two worlds collided, Chapter 1

**Somewhere in London...**

The year was 1990, and it had been eight months since Dumbledore and Lucius had been employed by the CIA. Women started to sing the tales of old and lightning hit dramatically against the hard concrete of Privet Drive, perfectly foretelling the chaos that was soon to ensure - for anyone who would dare to listen. Thunder roared ad Dumbledore struggled to drive his newly purchased car.

" _A coat of gold, or a coat of red_

_A lion still has claws_

_And mine are long and sharp, my Lord_

_As long and sharp as yours"_

The women of "Wands and Charms"; (the local brothel in Knockturn alley), sang, for they knew the end was near…

Albus decided he was having a rather good day, aside from an annoying fly buzzing against his ear and his sore throat from an excessive consumption of Sherbet lemons the previous day. The buzzing grew louder and louder until he finally released it wasn't a fly at all, it was Lucius Malfoy grumbling about the instability of Mudblood finance from the front seat of the car next to him.

Dumbledore sped up the car, pondering how he and Lucius got along so well, despite their oversized egos.

_The women sang louder…_

The CIA had done some investigating and were close to discovering the world of wizardry. The ministry had to quickly derail this revealing investigation so they sent Albus Dumbledore and Lucius Malfoy to quickly go and fix the situation. Lucius liked to think he was a man of logic while Dumbledore liked to think he was a man of wisdom. Together they penetrated the CIA and managed to work their way to the top of the CIA's "suspicious and unexplainable occurrences" unit.

By now, Lucius had moved on from Mudblood tax evasion and had begun to vent about the 'inefficiencies' of age.

"My friend, I believe the term you are looking for is undesirable. You see, death is anything but inefficient." Dumbledore pitched into Lucius's one sided conversation with himself with chilling calmness.

"Undesirable it is then. However, denying the fact that death is inefficient to our life goals makes you seem rather dark and this does not suit your painfully optimistic attitude. I admit my wording may have been a little off, but I was getting to the point until was quite rudely interrupted by you! Oh, and do try to keep up that happy outlook on life, which you were failing at rather sadly right now, because Merlin forbid you say anything other than some sort of inspiring monologue! " countered Lucius triumphantly.

"I'm not in the mood for existential debates with you, Lucius!" scoffed Dumbledore, trying to soothe his precious ego.

"Too morbid for you Dumbledore?" Lucius said with a smug grin on his face, his imagination going wild as he thought of extremely 'morbid' things..

"Nothing is too morbid for me, I am an icon of wisdom" Dumbledore responded, rivalling Lucius's face with unchecked smirk of his own.

To that they both chuckled.

"To be honest with you, I am not up for existential debates either. You see, I have a terrible headache. Dobby really doesn't understand when to stop pouring wine. You would think that as soon as Narcissa started smashing up treasured family heirlooms in a fit of drunken rage, it would be a good time to stop." Lucius grumbled.

Dumbledore uncharacteristically let out a girlish giggle.

These two had gotten rather close since this whole CIA investigation had started. Who would have thought that Lucius - the smug pureblood fascist of the dark side would get along with Dumbledore - the hopeful old man of the light. As they laughed together in the car, making petty jokes, it was truly a sight to behold.

Dumbledore leaned over to the car's radio (which he had replaced with a supposed 'time travel' radio that he had bought from a sketchy looking man claiming to be 'The Doctor') controls and turned up Shakira's song "Hips don't lie", swaying along to the crude lyrics.

The women in the brothel sang even louder…

Dumbledore and Lucius were on their way to quickly retrieve Mrs Figg's magic cats before that stupid-good-for-nothing "Fox Muldey" guy, came over from America to investigate. The man was relentless in his attempts to find the wizarding world. The ministry had debated whether it was better to simply kill or obliviate the guy. Dumbledore had stepped in and convinced them to take a more peaceful approach. The Ministry of Magic decided to take control of his mind and make him believe that the strange happenings he had encountered were simply signs of an Alien invasion. This meant that nobody took the poor, confused man seriously.

The women sang extremely loud, to the point of screaming…

As Shakira's song came to a sad conclusion, Drake's song "Hotline Bling" started playing on the radio. Fed up with Muggle music, Dumbledore pointed his wand at the radio and yelled "ascendio" and the radio shot skywards, ripping a giant hole in the car roof and scaring the hell out of Lucius.

"Holy sh*t Dumbledore! Ascendio? What the actual hell were you thinking?"

Almost missing the turn-off because of Lucius' sudden yelling, Dumbledore quickly swerved the car around the corner. The very familiar "Private Drive" sign came into view. The street was eerily quiet…

The women screeched so loudly that the monstrous noise they created managed to burst the eardrum of an elderly lady walking past the brothel. She had recently lost a rather nasty game of poker and was making her way to the slums of Knockturn Alley when she collapsed, of shock. But hey, the noise was so loud it effectively cured her of her deafness.

"Now what were you saying about that muggle 'tax fraud'?" asked Dumbledore, attempting to fill the now Shakira-less car with conversation.

"No, no, no! Tax evasion, I clearly said Tax evasion! You see Tax evasion is this muggle thing…" Lucius continued his rambling and Dumbledore listened with one ear. He was feeling very 'Holy'.

Lightning filled the sky and rain dripped down the front window of the car.

The women were now practically screaming…

"How do muggles see out the front window? Surely it's impossible, right?" Lucius asked, his voice laced with concern as Dumbledore's driving went out of control.

"Yes, I am growing a rather large respect for these muggles, I'm finding it very difficult to see out the window myself" He replied.

"Can't yer be a bit quieter ye, damn wh*res!" screamed a beastly half giant who simply wanted to go on a nice walk through knockturn alley. In reply, the women sang louder…

"Haven't muggles created something to wipe away the rain?" Lucius inquired.

"Actually I think they have! The invention was called… called... something like 'win scream vipers' I thi-"

Something thin and lanky ran across the road. Was it one of Mrs Figg's cats?

"Stop! Stop! Look out!" cried Lucius, far too late.

The women now sung so loud that all the windows of the building smashed...

**BANG.**

Dumbledore quickly stopped the car. Frantically, he took off his seatbelt and rushed out the car door…

As he approached what he believed to be a cat, he was surprised by its humanoid appearance.

He approached the figure.

It was a human.

A child.

A boy.

They had run over a little boy.

"Oh- oh my g-goodness, you ran over a child, holy sh*t, holy sh*t, holy sh*t! W-we are going to Azkaban… Oh no, oh no…" Lucius whimpered, in a very _Weasley-like_ fashion

Dumbledore lifted up the boy and moved a strand of the child's hair to reveal a lightning bolt shaped scar.

"HOLY SH*T" Dumbledore yelled

They had just run over Harry Potter…

* * *

"And so he spoke, and so he spoke-

That Lord of Castamere.

And now the rains weep o'er his halls,

With no one there to hear"

The women sang slightly quieter now, after receiving a fine from the ministry for 'disrupting neighboring establishments'.

* * *

_Meanwhile in King's Landing…_

Joffrey couldn't contain his joy. The scene being reenacted in front of him was far too funny; he was practically choking on his own breath. Gasping, he lurched to his feet, almost knocking over his tall, two-handed chalice. He peered down at the two dwarfs, still straddling each other, breathing heavily after wrestling each other to be the first to mount. The dwarfs untangled themselves, no doubt anticipating the royal thanks.

"You are not a true champion." said Joffrey "A true champion defeats all challengers."

The king climbed up onto the grand table before him.

"Who else will challenge our tiny champion?"

With a gleeful smile, he turned toward Tyrion.

"Uncle! You'll defend the honour of my realm, won't you? You can ride the pig!"

Laughter filled the gardens, and Joffrey's uncle rose.

"Your Grace" he called, "I'll ride the pig... but only if you ride the dog!"

Joffrey scowled, confusion spread across his angelic features. He couldn't quite grasp what the little monster was insinuating.

"M-me?" Joffrey faltered "I'm no dwarf. Why me?"

"Why, you're the only man in the hall that I'm certain of defeating!" Tyrion replied gleefully.

The crowd laughed and Joffrey's cheeks turned a satisfying shade of pink. His face then contorted into an expression of complete rage.

Joffrey turned to his mother, who wore an equal expression of rage, and then looked to the imp who was staring at his mother smugly, before blowing her a sarcastic kiss. The nerve that stupid little monster had!

Enraged by his uncle, Joffrey rose, walked over to him, and tipped his wine all over the man. Tyrion, now freshly 'Carrie-fied', blinked continuously in shock.

"That was ill done, Your Grace," he heard Ser Garlan say quietly, unsure of his words.

"Not at all, Ser Garlan." Tyrion said, trying to prevent this from becoming any uglier than it was, with half the realm looking on. "Not every king would think to honour a humble subject by serving him from his own royal chalice. A pity the wine spilled."

Joffrey, obviously not understanding that Tyrion was trying to salvage the situation, responded "It didn't Spill, and I wasn't serving it either!

Margaery, not wanting this to get out of hand, walked over and attempted to remove Joffrey from the situation "My sweet king, come, return to your place, there's another singer waiting."

"Alaric of Eysen," said Lady Olenna Tyrell, leaning on her cane "I do so hope he plays us 'The Rains of Castamere.' It has been an hour, I've forgotten how it goes."

The women, now feeling very encouraged, sang even louder, in hopes Lady Olenna may hear it from an entirely different world.

"Ser Addam has a toast he wants to make as well," said Margaery. "Your Grace, please."

"I have no wine," Joffrey declared. "How can I drink a toast if I have no wine? Uncle Imp, you can serve me. Since you won't joust you'll be my cupbearer."

"I would be most honoured." Tyrion responded

"No, no, no! The imp wasn't supposed to enjoy it!" thought Joffrey.

"It's not meant to be an honour!" Joffrey screamed. "Bend down and pick up my chalice."

Tyrion did as he was told, but as he reached for the handle Joffrey kicked the chalice through his legs.

"Pick it up! Are you as clumsy as you are ugly?"

Tyrion had to crawl under the table to find the chalice.

"Good, now fill it with wine." He claimed a flagon from a serving girl and filled the goblet three-quarters full. "No, on your knees, dwarf."

Kneeling, Tyrion raised up the heavy cup, wondering if he was about to get a second bath. But Joffrey took the wedding chalice one-handed, drank deep, and set it on the table.

"You can get up now, Uncle."

* * *

_In Private Drive…_

"Oh my-" stuttered Lucius "That's not who I think it is, right?"

"I'm a-afraid so Lucius, I believe w-we just killed The-Boy-Who-Lived!"

"Don't just stand there... Do something!" cried Lucius, petrified with shock.

"Y-yeah r-right. U-uh, fu-f*ck!" stamperred Dumbledore "Okay, okay, con-concentrate Albus, concentrate Albus - shi-sh*t!"

Dumbledore grabbed his wand and pointed it at the unconscious, possibly dead child.

This situation was so wrong, Dumbledore couldn't think straight.

"R-Repairo" Dumbledore said, flicking his wand desperately.

Nothing happened.

"Repairo!?" cried Lucius incredulously.

"Y-yeah... right-" Dumbledore stamperred "uh-uh..."

Crap, what was the boy's name again?

Drarry?

Bran?

Larry?

Jeffrey?

"Uh-uh, Accio Joffrey!" Dumbledore cried pointing his wand at the boy. Panic riddled his face and he gripped the Elder extremely hard before it snapped in two.

"ACCIO!?" screamed Lucius "AND WHO THE F*CK IS JOFFREY?"

Harry Potter violently started shaking. Lucius and Dumbledore shared a look of bemusement and pure horror. "Well that worked..." they chorused.

* * *

_Back in King's Landing…_

After the pie had been cut, Joffrey demanded Tyrion pour him wine, which he did rather reluctantly.

"It seems that my uncle hasn't eaten his pigeon pie." Holding the chalice with one hand, Joffrey jammed his own fork into Tyrion's pie. "It's ill luck not to eat the pie," he scolded as he filled his mouth with hot spiced pigeon.

"See? It's good." Spitting out flakes of crust, he coughed and helped himself to another mouthful. "Dry though- needs washing down." Joffrey took a swallow of wine and coughed again, more violently.

"I want to see- *cough* -See you ride that- *cough* -pig, Uncle. I want . . . "

His words, no longer distinguishable, were interrupted by a fit of coughing.

Margaery looked at him with concern. "Your Grace?"

"It's- *cough* - the pie." Joffrey took another drink, or tried to, but all the wine came spewing back out when another spate of coughing doubled him over. His face was turning red.

"I- *cough* -I can't- *cough-cough-cough*" The chalice slipped from his hand and dark red wine spilled across the dais.

"He's Choking!" cried Mageary. "Help the poor boy-"

Joffrey couldn't hear anything.

He fell to the ground.

All he could feel was pain.

The last thing he saw was his Mother.

She was screaming something.

He didn't know what-

And he didn't care.

He looked into her eyes one final time,

Before he shut his own

And embraced the end.

"Yes, now the rains weep o'er his halls

And not a soul to hear"

With this, the women ended their song.

And then the two worlds collided and all senses of logic and reason were lost…

Joffrey's eyes fluttered open to stare into the eyes of God.

Or was it mother?

No, it wasn't mother's eyes.

These eyes had a strange sort of twinkle…

It was definitely God: long haired, bearded and majestic.

Joffrey blinked

"Is this Heaven?"

"No my boy, It's hell"

Joffrey wasn't sure why the supposed God was calling him "his boy" because he certainly didn't have any Jesus like tendencies.

He may not be Jesus, but he thought himself a good lad; in his own eyes, he was practically a saint. Maybe God had him confused with someone else, because Joffrey was sure he belonged in Heaven, not hell.

"Who am I?"

"'The chosen one', 'The boy who lived', 'The Golden savior'!" God told him.

Well, he knew that already.

"Yes, that's old news- but what is my name?" Joffrey asked, just to make sure God had not confused him for somebody else.

"I believe it's 'Harry' " replied God sarcastically, glancing at the blonde queer beside him.

Who the actual F*ck was Harry?

* * *

_NEXT TIME…_

*BANG*

A beastly Half-Giant could be seen at the doorway. He looked suspiciously like Joffrey's father, King Robert, but instead of a well-trimmed kingly appearance, he was rocking a dishevelled peasant-like sort of look and was about double as tall.

"D-Daddy?! Have you come to rescue me from this nightmare?" cried Joffrey

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a mostly crack-fic. We obviously don't own Game of Thrones, Harry Potter, Drake and Shakira (that would be weird). It would be greatly appreciated if you would kudos and comment, it lets us know that people are reading our stories and makes us feel good (: . We also appreciate any criticism and well. For all who are wondering the song that the women of the brothel sing is "Rains of Castamere".
> 
> *Gives virtual hug for reading*


	2. A bad day for Joffrey Baratheon, Chapter two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore and Lucius are troubled while Joffrey has to come to terms with his new world.

_A strange encounter..._

Joffrey stared up at God.

God stared down at Joffrey

God gave him a very ethereal, sadistic grin. Joffrey dared not predict what sort of divine joke he had taken part in to give God such great amusement.

Then God giggled

_Giggled._

“You’re not God, are you?”

“How terribly rude of you to presume so, I could very well be God!”

“But you’re not...”

“Yes, I’m afraid you are correct. Were you hoping for a different answer?”

“Why, I simply thought you were God. You see, I had thought myself dead…”Joffrey took a moment to think “To be honest with you, you do look a few million years old.” To this, the blonde queer standing next to ‘not-God’ tried to cover his roar of laughter.

The not-dead boy-who-lived was in surprisingly good shape for someone who had just been hit by a car. There appeared to be no physical damage apart from a small bump on the child’s head.

“But if I’m not Dead, this isn't heaven and you’re not God…” Joffrey trailed off “Then where am I?”

A multitude of thoughts swarmed the boy’s mind.

In a very un-Joffrey-like manner, he took a moment to calm himself

The last thing he remembered was drinking wine, then dropping into his mother’s shaking arms and embracing the end, only to then, awake and meet the eyes of God, and then discovering that they were not the eyes of God at all! If this strange man was not God, then who was he? Was it one of the healers mother had employed? Or had he been kidnapped?

“Who are you?” Joffrey demanded.

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore” The mad man replied with an air of intense pride, as though he was the saviour of the seven kingdoms or one of the old Gods himself.

While the man wore a cloth that of fine silk that implied he was of great wealth, Joffrey knew better- He had been schooled well and new the names of the most prominent houses of the kingdoms and the name “Dumbledore” did not ring a bell. If the man had been a Healer he would have been required to state his position as such. The former king deduced he must have been a peasant or some wealthy foreigner, neither of which were of any significance to him.

“Unhand me, peasant!”

The old nutter looked slightly taken aback by his words.

“I said, unhand me, peasant.” This time Joffrey said it rather slowly because he suspected the man was not quite sane.

Aside from his jaw dropping slightly, the nutter made no attempt to move.

Joffrey decided to take a different approach and turned to the blonde man.

“Who is this ‘Harry’ you speak of?” Joffrey demanded.

“Why, it’s you of course” the blonde queer replied.

Joffrey was growing tired of the men’s impudence.

“Enough of your mockery, You are to unhand me this instant, I am the king!”

_What’s wrong with the-boy-who-lived?..._

When Harry Potter’s eyes fluttered open, Dumbledore could not describe the immense feeling of relief that washed over him. Only to be replaced by utter confusion as the boy began to spew insanity.

Harry Potter had gone from calmly producing rubbish to violently thrashing around in Dumbledore's arms screaming for his release and referring to himself as ‘the King of the Seven Kingdoms’ as if it was common knowledge. By now, Harry was cursing prostitutes, still smelling strongly of wine - perhaps drunk?

“Albus...”

“Yes, Lucius?”

“Do you suspect that we may have ruined something when we hit him with the car?”

“What are you suggesting?”

“You know, ruined something up _there_?” Lucius inquired, pointing to his head, looking scandalised.

“I don’t think it would be” Dumbledore winced “criminal to assume as much”

Every mad scream that Harry Potter produced made Dumbledore’s eyes twinkle a little less.

‘“I AM KING! LET ME GO OR I’M TELLING MOTHER!” the mad little king screamed, seemingly oblivious to Malfoy and Dumbledore’s conversation.

“Any man who says ‘I am king’ is no true king” muttered Lucius.

“Perhaps” Lucius ran a hand through his long, silky hair “It would be best to place the child in that muggle hut which he inhabits, and then we can assess the situation.’”

“Yes, Lucius.” Albus replied gravely “I feel that is the best course of action.”

Dumbledore reached into his coat and pulled out a pair of handcuffs to stop the child’s thrashing and successfully transport him to number 4 Privet Drive. The task was virtually impossible because the kid was having a full-on tantrum. He was like a toddler on steroids.

“Albus?” Lucius began cautiously

“Yes, Mr Malfoy.” Dumbledore sighed

“Why do you have those?”

“Have what?” Dumbledore asked confused.

“Those handcuffs...”

“Once again, have no idea what you are suggesting.”

Lucius made no attempt to remove the look of pure disgust that spread across his face as Dumbledore said this. Dumbledore only returned his look of disgust with one of confusion.

As they approached the ‘muggle hut’ as Malfoy had so eloquently described, they noticed how no lights seemed to be on, and the Dursley’s car was missing. Nobody seemed to be home. Albus thought it terribly irresponsible to leave a ten-year-old child alone. Apparently, there was some muggle sporting event that everyone had gone off too. Lucius muttered something about it being ‘terribly irresponsible’ to ascendio a radio, which Albus did not hear or just chose to ignore.

Dumbledore's hands were placed firmly around the child’s shoulders to keep him from running off as they approached the house. When Dumbledore and Lucius reached the door, Lucius muttered ‘Alohomora’ and it instantly opened.

Harry Potter was now whimpering about him being “The King” and something about “Telling Mummy”; the boy had truly gone insane.

“You don’t perhaps think that we maybe…” Lucius muttered, looking away.

“Maybe what?”

“We summoned a demon, do you?”

Dumbledore let out a hysterical laugh. When he finally calmed down he turned to face Lucius, who, to his surprise, looked dead serious.

“W-Wait...” Dumbledore breathed “You’re serious?”

“Yes”

Albus did admit, the boy’s screams were a little demonic.

When they reached the Dursleys living room Albus gently placed the boy on the couch, still keeping his hand securely on Harry’s shoulder.

The boy let out a primal roar of fury.

“Goodness,” Dumbledore thought “Potter’s screams are really terrifying...”

Lucius and Dumbledore both agreed that the best course of action would be to stupefy the child, so Lucius quickly performed the spell and they were both pleasantly surprised by how peaceful the world seemed without the boy’s howling.

“So...” Lucius began “Let’s recap! We’ve come to confiscate Mrs. Figg's cats, however, we have somehow managed to break the Elder wand and almost kill the boy-who-lived. We either mentally impaired him or we have summoned a demon.” Dumbledore scoffed and Lucius gave him a stern look “Think about it Albus, when we hit the child we knocked him unconscious and then suddenly you said ‘Accio Joffrey’ and the Elder Wand snapped! The boy now claims that he is King Joffrey. I don’t believe this is a coincidence!”

“Yes I see your point, However, I do not believe we have summoned a demon.” Dumbledore chuckled “Indeed, I do not believe it was even magic that saved the child, I think that perhaps the boy has gotten a nasty case of amnesia and has gone a little mad- That, or he is drunk! He smells strongly of wine… In fact Lucius, I believe that before his seizure, (which must have been the result of severe head trauma), he heard me saying “Accio Joffrey” and now has somehow managed to draw the connection between him and the name “Joffrey”.He now believes that he is Joffrey, the rest of the madness is just hysteria. I’m sure it will die down after he’s had a good night's sleep. I propose we take him to the healers at Saint Mungo and see their view on the situation.”

“Hysteria!?” Lucius cried “Merlin's beard, you really are mad! The boy was waving his arms around claiming to be the king of ‘The Seven Kingdoms’. Have you no sense? No, we shall not take the child to St. Mungo's- Yet. Unlike you, I have a family to protect.”

“Now that stung.” Dumbledore thought, barely covering his wince.

“If we take the child to St. Mungos and it turns out the boy really has gone insane and doesn't just need ‘a good night’s sleep.’” Lucius was now yelling. “Then not only would we have doomed the wizarding world as we know it but also we will be sent to Azkaban. Now, if the child really has gone mad then I would like to spend my last years before the Dark Lord returns, with my family. Not locked up with dementors tearing at my soul!” By the time Lucius was finished his rant, he was breathing hard, leaning on his cane in order to keep himself upright.

“Steady yourself, Lucius, I am not your enemy.” Dumbledore began, in a soothing manner “I agree, we will not take the boy to St. Mungos. We will leave now and in a week’s time, we shall return and assess the Child's condition. If he is still batsh*t we will determine the best course of action.” he finished bluntly.

They picked up the boy and moved him to the cupboard under the stairs, which curiously had a bed in it. Albus felt rather bad for putting the boy there, and he was sure that the Dursleys were not going to be happy with finding their niece in a cupboard. However, Harry was best kept in there because it was the only room in the house that bore a proper lock. If the boy woke up and decided to make a scene by running out the door and yelling profanities, it would be extremely difficult for him to do so if he was stuck in the cupboard.

Dumbledore grabbed Lucius’s still intact wand pointed it at the boy.

“I do not want Harry to remember us as the madmen who hit him with a car before kidnapping him when he returns to Hogwarts.”

Before Lucius could register what Albus was about to do, Dumbledore hit the boy with an ‘obliviate’ spell.

“How could you do that Albus? He was just a child…” Lucius muttered, even though he knew Dumbledore’s actions were completely necessary. “And what of the Elder Wand? I’m not entirely sure of its background, but I have heard it is extremely powerful” asked Lucius

Dumbledore suddenly stopped walking.

“I shall...”

“You shall?”

“I shall... figure it out.”

Dumbledore started to walk again, and Lucius trailed some feet behind him.

“I believe our work here is done, Lucius. Now, let’s get out of here”

Lucius and Dumbledore left the Dursleys house. They had completely forgotten about Mrs Figg's cats which would later be discovered by a certain ‘Agent Mulder’ and an ‘Agent Scully’. Luckily, they would eventually conclude that Mrs Figg had been communicating with Alien life.

* * *

_An example..._

Privet drive was in a particularly delightful mood that morning. The sun was out, people laughed, children ate ice cream while Dudley and his mates argued about a supposed ‘hottest female’ celebrity. It was a perfectly normal day, _thank you very much._

If a pedestrian were to take a leisurely stroll down the hot, sunny street of Privet drive, they would not expect anything magical or strange to be going on.

No bad omens were present. There was no thunder, no lightning and definitely no signs of an other-wordly presence. But if that particular passerby happened to have a little sense for recognizing evil, they may have stalked a little closer to the seemingly plain and simple Number 4, Privet drive.

If they happened to open the door before them (with a magic that one would only acquire it they were the lead star in an example about meeting an ominous/evil presence.) and approach a little cupboard under the stairs, they would immediately run away screaming and get as far away from Privet Drive as possible. (Of course, this is assuming they had any sense at all…)

[However, this particular pedestrian, (who shall now be known as “George”) does not exist. Instead, they are a manifestation of curiosity and his entire existence is dedicated to examining a specific situation. So it’s fair to say sensibility is not one of their virtues.]

With that being said, George slowly reached for the handle of the cupboard under the stairs, and even as a figmentation of somebody's imagination simply used to provide an example, he can still recognise the presence of pure evil. His temple began to leak tears of sweat and his hands became shaky. George took a deep breath and opened the door.

He was greeted by a small cobweb-ridden bedroom and part-time storage room. Laying on the bed, (which was more of an old towel), in a deep sleep was the small figure of living evil. This great beast, master of all evil can be referred to as ‘Joffrey Baratheon’.

Upon glimpsing the hellspawn, the protagonist of our example ‘George’ had an existential breakdown and realise there was more to life than simply finding out who or what was in the cupboard under the stairs. He would develop a conscious and begin to see the faults in the world. He would know all that was good and evil. George would begin to review his newfound knowledge, the authors of this ‘example’ would have no choice but to turn “George” into a cockroach, in fear of what they had created.

* * *

_A rude awakening..._

Joffrey was pleased to say that he had never taken comfort in the wailing of women, only their cries of pain and anguish. The company of women had never made him feel special, as Mother would say. The only woman that struck him as somewhat engaging was sweet Margaery. She was the only female who had ever made him feel anything other than hatred in their presence. Women were weak - that Stark-b*tch proved it.

The Heavens were obviously displeased with Joffrey’s assessment of the female character, as that night he had a most troubling nightmare. The women Tyrion had sent him screeched his name and promised him revenge. They told him of the arrows he would bear if he ever harmed another female. Joffrey, being a boy of self-assessed intellect, rejected them and then told that they could ‘shove their sweet proposition up their ass’.

The women were not terribly happy with his rejection, they proceed to do a strange and unsettling dance around him, hips swaying side to side while chanting “yee shalt not partake in pickles no more”. Joffrey hadn't the faintest idea what this meant, but it still horrified him. He began to scream tears of distraught as the women pointed and laughed.

His nightmare was rudely interrupted by a deeply unpleasant bird.

The bird screeched something along the lines of ‘arrygetupnow’. Joffrey thought it was a funny sounding bird, but paid no mind to it as he restlessly rolled around in his bed, trying to fall back to sleep. It simply screeched again.

“If you don’t shut up, I will have half the kingdom feast on your remains, and then” Jofrrey began opening his eyes, “I shall have you…”

He looked up.

This was not his chambers.

He looked down.

Did his hands shrink? Or had they always been that feeble?

“Up! Get up! Now!” That was not a bird. Just some sort of banshee.

Joffrey looked around at the dusty, filthy little space. Was this a cupboard with a bed? Why in the Seven Hells would a cupboard need a bed? And what was he doing in such a place? This room was not fit for a king! - No, scratch that, this room was not fit for anyone. Perhaps he had been kidnapped and was to be sold? Fear trickled through Joffrey's body and he placed a hand on the wall in order to calm himself. 

Before he realised, thick, wet tears were dripping down his pale face. He wasn't really sure why he was crying, but it seemed to be -- a sign?. The screaming banshee-woman was kicking the cupboard door now, but Joffrey ignored the clearly mentally unstable lady.

As he was about to get up to confront the noise, he spotted something flashing across the room. A mirror? Joffrey placed one shaky arm on the bed, and slowly made his way over the debris of pillows, one hand and then the next, to the crusty, peeling wall to investigate.

Joffrey looked into the mirror  
Joffrey did not stare back at him.

Instead, a very different boy appeared.

A boy with forest green eyes to replace his fiery ones, thick, black messy hair to his well kept blond, and a thin framed body to his well fed.

What in the seven kingdoms…

Joffrey combined all of his fear, anger and confusion into one frightful, freaky-friday style scream. It was a scream worthy of an Oscar, a scream that would bring grown men to tears, a scream that would better fit a being _not of this world_. Actually -- scratch that -- it was more of a wail. And then, in an act that seemed to be appropriate to the situation, promptly fainted. His frail, undernourished body falling right back into the bed at which he had woken.

* * *

_A short time after…_

Joffrey felt something cold and wet dripping down his face. His eyes instantly fluttered open to meet the plain, brown eyes of what he thought to be a pig; By the simple fact that it smelled strongly of pork and was squealing rather obnoxiously.

As Joffrey's senses slowly came back to him, (partly due to the fact he was being shaken vigorously and partly due to him being soaked in water), he realised that it wasn’t a pig! Just a very pig-like man.

You would be most cruel to judge Joffrey's assessment of the man. Any person in this situation would think the same. If the man were to take a few steps back, lose a little weight and wear some cologne, (preferably ‘Fierce and sexy”’ by Bathilda Bagshot and Abigail Smith ’), perhaps and I must stress that only perhaps, Joffrey’s conclusion would have differed. So I beg of you, dear audience, please do not hold this against Joffrey -- or think any less of him.

Joffrey looked around only to find himself in what looked to be a peasant’s living room.

“Ya think it’s funny, do ya?” The sweat-stricken, pink, fat man asked while violently shaking him. “To scream as if it’s the end of the world and collapse? You worried ya poor aunt and ruined Dudley’s birthday!” It screamed, eyes red with rage.

The shorter pig, who Joffrey assumed to be the ‘Dudley’ boy, let out a wail in a terrible attempt at fake crying. Only to be hushed by a long-necked, skinny, scrawny-looking women who contrasted against the two fat things considerably.

Joffrey looked to see if the two onlookers thought the man mad as well, but to his dismay, the giraffe woman (positioned behind the pig, holding onto her son), stared at him as if he was the mad one and had committed some great betrayal worthy of a shaking by a living porkchop.

“Peasant,” Joffrey began because the dull coloured cotton clothing certainly implied that. “I haven't the faintest idea of how I have offended you so, but I ask you to please unhand me if you have any care for the well-being of your family!”

The pork chop just looked at him blankly.

By the Gods! Were these people as stupid as they were ugly? How could they not understand what Joffrey was implying?

“Because I will have your family executed.” Joffrey elaborated.

“I will make this easy for you; simply tell me what you want and why you have kidnapped me.” Joffrey instructed the biggest pig who because of sheer size, Joffrey considered to be the ‘leader’ of this household. 

“And then I shall reconsider disposing your family if you will refrain from pouring water on me and thrashing me as though I am some sort of apprentice boy!” he spat, ignoring the way the short pig seemed to be choking on his own tongue out of utter shock. “And you will also tell me where I am and tell me what sort of sick witchcraft or magic-” The giraffe promptly blocked her son’s ears “You have placed me under to alter my appearance, and th-” 

“Magic!” The Pig-leader roared, seemingly offended as though everything Joffrey had said before that point was completely normal. “Don’t use that word in this house boy! There is no such thing as ma-” 

“Be quiet when I am speaking to you, bastard! Even if I am at your mercy right now, I am still the king and you must hold your tongue unless I directly address you- If you dare to disobey me, I shall have your tongue cut out!” 

The pig, now shaking violently in fury turned a funny shade of pink. He was squeezing Joffrey’s shoulders so tightly, he would likely bruise.

“You. Little. Sh*t!” the pig trembled with fury. 

“How dare you say such profane things about me. I am the king!” Joffrey cried, meeting the eyes of the small pig who looked to be… impressed and slightly in awe?

Joffrey desperately tried to get out of the arms of the fat man by wriggling about and screaming - sadly, to no avail. 

“Be quiet you little-” the pig muttered as Joffrey tried to headbutt the him away, only to knock himself out. 

* * *

“But the boy has gone mad Petunia…” a gravelly voice gasped. 

“Hush, hush.” a woman's voice pleaded, “Please don’t Vernon, you’ll scare Dudley!”

Joffrey opened his eyes only to find himself back inside the cramped little cupboard. He opened the door and quietly tip-toed out, (accidentally stepping on a cockroach), before crouching down, peering in at the mysterious scene unravelling before him. 

The ‘Petunia’ woman bent down on one knee and wiped a tear off her chubby little son's face.

“Oh, Mummy...” The child cried “Today has been the worst birthday ever! I-I think Harry’s ruined it. A-and I oh-only got thirty-six presents which is less than last year!”

“The little tyke wants his money’s worth- just like his father. Isn't that right, Dudley, mah boy?” The father chuckled affectionately.

Joffrey emerged from behind the door and Mr Dursley, Mrs Dursely and Dudley all turned to glare at him. 

“So you’re up then. Do ye think that ye can throw a tantrum like that and-” the fat man began. 

“Vernon” Petunia warned, then turned back to her son and pecked a salivary kiss on his forehead.

“Now, now... We won’t let that little freak-” Petunia’s eyes narrowed at Joffrey “Ruin a perfectly good birthday, will we? I tell you what, when we go out today we will buy you three new birthday presents! That’s two more presents so you will have more than last year and also one to compensate for this morning’s little disruption.” She harshly looked back at Joffrey before trying to Dudley and smiling “How does that sound, Pumpkin?”

The boy looked conflicted for a moment and then replied reasonably with “Yeah, I guess that’s ‘aight then innit...”

At that moment the telephone rang and while Petunia patted her son’s hair soothingly, Vernon went to answer the phone. Shortly after, he returned looking both worried and angry. This peculiar expression did nothing to complement the middle aged man’s looks. 

“I have ghastly news, Petunia,” he said “The crazy old hag’s broken her leg so she can’t take the little freak.” He jerked his head in Joffrey’s direction. 

Dudley’s mouth fell open in horror and Joffrey looked around confused.

Obviously, this family had not kidnapped him and had mistaken him for some servant boy. Joffrey’s first thoughts were that perhaps this was some god's way of playing a cruel joke on him as punishment for the way he treated everyone so poorly, or maybe he had gotten drunk at his wedding and this was some kind of delusion Tyrion had always told him would happen if one had a little too much to drink. Real or not, this family was clearly not a bunch of tyrants trying to sell him and they did not think he was who he actually was. He had a feeling that if he tried to convince the pig-nosed family that he was king again, they would just think he was mad and maybe even have him executed! 

Joffrey decided that the best way to ensure his own safety would just be to pretend that he was whoever they thought he was until he could figure out what in The Seven Kingdoms was going on. 

“Now what?” asked Petunia, looking furiously at Joffrey as though he had planned this. 

“We could phone Marge.” Vernon suggested. 

“Don’t be silly, Vernon, she hates the boy!” 

“Perhaps, it would be more suited to your duties,” Joffrey began, trying to be helpful, even though he didn't fully understand what was going on. “If you were to leave me here.” Mr and Mrs Dursey looked back in shock which was almost immediately replaced with annoyance. 

“And come back to find the house in ruins? Ha!” she barked “And goodness knows what you are capable of after that little tantrum you put us through this morning...” 

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Petunia slowly, "... And leave him in the car..."

"That car is brand new! He is not sitting in it alone..." 

At this point Dudley came to the realisation that he was no longer the centre of attention and tried to break down into tears. (This show looked incredibly fake.) 

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry! Mummy won't let him spoil your special day!" Petunia cried, flinging her arms around him. 

"I... don't... want... him... t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge, pretend sobs. "He always sp- spoils everything!" He shot Joffrey a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms. 

The conversation instantly finished and Petunia stepped away from Dudley and walked to the kitchen. 

Joffrey followed her a few paces behind. “My Lady, if I may…” Joffrey pleaded, and Petunia nodded her head for him to continue, obviously pleased with the way she was being addressed. “I value my high morals, I wouldn't even dream of wronging you or doing anything to corrupt your good faith, so you mustn't worry. I don’t plan on doing any harm to this ‘car’ you speak of.” Joffrey fluttered his eyelashes innocently. 

Petunia saw past his attempts at manipulation almost immediately. “Ha, don’t think you fool me so easily you little freak. Absolutely not!”

And just like George, sensibility was not one of Joffrey’s virtues but rage most certainly was. “Well then,” Joffrey said, eyeing up the cooking knife Petunia was holding, “It looks like you leave me no choice.”

The woman's eyes widened.

Just as Joffrey was about to make a dive for the knife, a loud knock was heard from the front of the house and Mr Dursley hurried to open the front door.

Petunia shivered, thankful for the sudden interruption. 

When Mr Dursely returned, a scrawny rat-looking boy trailed behind him. It was a friend of the pig-boy who was supposed to accompany them to this ‘zoo’. 

Joffrey had never been to the zoo. Mother had told him with much distaste that it was where Uncle Tyrion always was. When Joffrey tried to ask Tyrion what a zoo was, the man simply replied with a devilish grin and told him he would ‘understand when he was older’ before winking suggestively. 

As Joffrey went to open the ‘car’ door, (which in his eyes looked similar to a giant bug), he was grabbed by his shoulders and slammed against the car. 

"I'm warning you," Vernon said, putting his large, purple face close to Joffrey’s, "I'm warning you now, boy; any funny business, anything at all; anything like this morning; and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas!" 

“Sir, I shan’t do anything, I promise.” Joffrey replied, shifting to avoid Vernon’s putrid breath. 

Vernon obviously did not believe him.

After the ride in the ‘car’, (which Joffrey concluded was a type of horseless carriage which made him feel rather nauseous), Joffrey followed the pig-boy and rat-boy, (making sure to keep a safe distance behind them because they were quite disgusting), around the zoo. He found himself extremely disappointed with the zoo. It was simply a place to laugh at funny-looking animals and Joffrey could do that whenever he wanted at home. In fact, he could do it with humans instead of lizards with strange frills, which in his opinion was far more worthy of his time.

Joffrey decided that the family consisting of pigs, giraffes and a rat which accompanied him around this ‘zoo’ fit rather well in their current surroundings. 

Joffrey remained bored while they were walking through the reptile house until they reached a certain display. 

He moved in front of the tank and looked intently at a snake. He wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom itself. The snake has no company except stupid people drumming their fingers on the glass trying to disturb it all day long. Nobody to bully, just you, and you alone, all day, every day.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were level with Joffrey's.

It winked.

Joffrey stared in shock. Not just because it was a snake that had just winked at him, but also because if he was almost entirely sure that snakes did not have eyelids; until now of course. Then he looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. He looked back at the snake and winked too, hoping that he did not just imagine it winking and was making a fool of himself. 

The snake jerked its head toward Vernon and Dudley, then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Joffrey a look that said quite plainly:

"I get that all the time.”

"I know," Joffrey murmured through the glass, though he wasn't sure the snake could hear him. "Stupid peasants, am I right?."

The snake nodded vigorously.

"Where are you from, anyway?"

The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Joffrey peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

"Was it nice there?" Joffrey asked, thinking he was surely going insane. 

The boa constrictor jabbed its tail at the sign again and Joffrey read on: This specimen was bred in the zoo. "Oh... I see. So you’re a bastard?"

The snake raised an eyebrow, (which was really just a bit of skin shaped like an eyebrow), before a deafening shout behind Joffrey made both of them jump.

"DUDLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!" something screamed like bad clickbait.

The pig came waddling toward them as fast as he could.

"Out of the way, you!" he said, punching Joffrey in the ribs. Caught by surprise, Joffrey fell hard on the concrete floor. What came next happened so fast no one saw how it happened. One second, Piers and Dudley were leaning close to the glass, the next, they leapt back, horrified.

Joffrey sat up and gasped; the glass front of the boa constrictor's tank had vanished. The great snake was uncoiling itself rapidly, slithering out onto the floor. And much to Joffrey’s amusement, people throughout the reptile house screamed and started running for the exit. 

As the snake slid past him, Joffrey was sure a hissing voice had said, "Brazil, here I come... Thank you, my king!" 

The keeper of the reptile house was in shock.

"But the glass..." he kept saying, "Where did the glass go?"

The zoo director made Petunia some tea and spluttered apologies over and over again. The rat and pig children could only gibber. Dudley was telling them how it had nearly bitten off his leg, while Piers was swearing it had tried to squeeze him to death. Joffrey couldn't blame them, he probably would have done the same.

"Harry was talking to it, weren't you, Harry?" one of the children had asked.

“I do not trifle with snakes, they are much like the Tyrells.” He replied, remembering his mother’s words and her foolish attempts at trying to tell him that Margaery was only ‘using him’. 

The child just looked at him confused and it’s rat-like face contorted into a look of what seemed to be pity. “Must be hard being a freak and mad…” the boy muttered.

The car ride back to the hut was mostly silent after that, aside from a few whimpers and sobs from the ‘Dudley’ child.

When they finally arrived back at the house the Vernon man grabbed Joffrey again.

"Go - cupboard - stay - no meals..." it said before collapsing into a chair. The giraffe then ran off and fetched it some brandy. 

Joffrey cried that night in the ugly little cupboard that he was now forced to reside in, like some sort of peasant! He didn't know what sort of magic had brought him here, made him look so ugly and placed him with such savages, but whoever did this would pay - He would make sure of that. He missed Grandfather, Mother, Margaery and Uncle Tyrion. He even missed the Stark-girl! (Well… to a certain point.) He wanted to be home, desperately. The realization that he could do nothing aside from trying to discern exactly what was going on kicked in, and even that was a challenge because nobody here seemed to know who he was, or why he was here apart from the snake that was probably long gone.

Joffrey whimpered quietly in despair.

If he had any hope of survival, he was going to have to try and act civil to these savages, maybe even as far as respectful. Joffrey almost puked at the idea.

Life was going to be very hard from now on...

* * *

When Joffrey woke the next morning he decided that in order to somehow understand what was going on, he would properly examine his new figure. He crawled over to the broken mirror on the other side of the cupboard, trying to squeeze his torso through the narrow walls which was surprisingly difficult.

He looked at his new face.

He supposed he wasn't that ugly. Of course, not beautiful by any means. He was decidedly average. No boy of any land could even dream of living up to Joffrey’s angelic looks of his real body, so he cut his new face some slack. The new face did have its virtues though, it had eyes of an extraordinary colour of forest green and very good cheekbones with thick, dark hair. However, any sort of prettiness that was once there was completely gone. The boy had a horrible hollowed out face from malnutrition and disgustingly unkempt hair. He supposed he may be able to regain some of that lost potential if he tried, but it would require quite a few pies and a comb or two. Judging by how small the rest of his body was, Joffrey deduced that his new body must have been three or four years younger than his actual age because of its limited height and lankiness.

In conclusion, this new body would do (for now). 

As the day progressed Joffrey made sure to make a note of every single detail that surrounded him. 

The pig people spoke in an extremely odd and almost... basic way.

Indeed, Joffrey was used to the chattering of peasants and servants. He knew of the simple way they spoke and the absence of sophisticated descriptive words in their sentences that most nobility would deem necessary. But they didn't speak the same as normal peasants. You see, they had an accent that was of nobility. (Maybe not the two pigs, but the giraffe certainly did.) But they just didn't speak like it. Their speaking mannerisms were so simple. Not to mention the also had a house name ‘Dursley’, he was not aware that was a practice peasants took part in. Joffrey was quit attempted to ask what a ‘Dursley’ was. What they did… Was it a fancy name for merchants? No, they certainly didn’t have an apparent business running. Perhaps they were rich peasants? No that wasn't possible and the thought of such a thing disgusted him. Sometimes the pig-child would use colloquialisms the likes of which he had never heard the lowliest farmer use, like ‘com-pu-ta’ and ‘te-li’ and ‘cah-ppa’. But what did these words mean? Were they some sort of Mathematical formula?

They also wore the strangest clothing.

The clothing was always strangely styled and simplistic. This, of course, was not unusual for the average peasant. However, what confused him was that they always wore such fine material. He would see the son dress in simple cotton and then put on a jacket made of real silk. The mother even wore pearls! Upon inspecting Dudley’s jacket more closely he saw an odd symbol on the back of it, followed by two large white numbers. When he attempted to query Dudley as to what it was (he asked if it were some sort of house sigil) the boy just shot him an offended look and told him never to insult the ‘Jasons’ again, which was apparently his favourite rug-bee team.

The Petunia woman also kept looking at him funny… 

The house seemed normal though. It was just a simple, plain cottage with slightly strange furnishings. At least he thought that until he inspected the chamber-pot. It was made of this odd marble, which the kitchen also sported. His time using the toilet that day was a particularly miserable affair because he had never used such a thing in his life before and when he -- Ah, forgive me, I shan’t pain you with the details…

But there were others in the house. Fairies. Pixies. He didn't know, but it scared him. They were tiny. Smaller than Tyrion tiny. The Dursleys had safely secured them in a small black box somehow which seemed to light up whenever they allowed them out. The Durselys were extremely ruthless when handling the beasts, whenever they would get too loud, they would flick a switch, the screen would go black and they would kill them all. Usually Joffrey would take delight in the thought of such a thing, but frankly, the pig-families complete lack of care when murdering them was terrifying. Throughout the day Joffrey would see the child staring at them -- just staring -- for hours and hours. Creepy.

And then there was this bright sunlight, you would flick a switch and suddenly the house would be filled with a warm orange glow. It was like - it was like magic. 

Just where in the Seven Kingdoms was he? Everything was just so different. Perhaps it was an entirely different realm. No, no, that just was not possible! But changing body was not possible, as well, right? Yet that had happened to him. Joffrey shivered. 

(Arya Stark was laughing hysterically from a different world. She didn't know why she was laughing but she seemed to just get an overwhelming urge to.)

He supposed the day had not exactly been bad.

It wasn't fun by any means, but maybe not bad.

Joffrey thought the Dursleys would perhaps force him to do manual labour or some kind of servant work, but much to his surprise they just ignored him and looked upon him like he was scum. Joffrey did not like this look, not at all. But anything was better than lowering oneself to servant work. So he didn't really mind the scornful looks, he took refuge in the fact that when the whole ordeal had been sorted out he would have their heads on sticks or would at least be able to spit on them.

The day progressed rather uneventfully and Joffrey tried his hardest to keep his mouth shut and record information about his whereabouts in his mind.

Joffrey munched on his considerably small portion of roast lamb that night and decided Petunia was a very good cook.

* * *

_Respect thy elders…_

At the crack of dawn, (which was more like 7:30) the next morning and second day of Joffrey’s arrival, Petunia was singing with glee, she bounded up and down the corridor next to Joffrey’s new cupboard, and merrily cried to the household that it was time to get up. 

Joffrey groaned and lifted his head remembering where he was.

The family was called to the living room and Vernon, Dudley and Joffrey looked at each other questioningly trying to figure out why Petunia was so pleased this morning. Petunia hummed happily while stirring her tea and both Dudley and Joffrey looked at Vernon pleadingly, hoping he would ask why Petunia was in such high spirits

After a few moments, Vernon got the courage to say something and careful not to break Petunia’s good mood asked:

“Petunia darling, what has put you in such a fine mood this morning?”

She just kept on humming.

“P-Petunia?”

“Hm?” she turned to him.

“Why are-”

“Oh yes -- yes, you are probably wondering why I called you all out here this morning… well you see something wonderful has happened” She stumbled over and laid out a cup of tea for each of them -- even Joffrey.

Joffrey, Vernon and Dudley leaned forward slightly and Petunia continued “Marian has invited me to tea!” she squealed. 

Boring...

The two pigs and the mad king were extremely disappointed. Seeing the looks on their faces Petunia’s own darkened.

“Well,” She said slowly, eyes narrowing “What do you think?”

“Sounds delightful dear” Mr. Dursely nervously laughed “U-um it’s just -- who is Marian again?”

“Marian, MARIAN?” She cried in outrage “You know Marian! Marian Parker, from the bakery! MARIAN!”

Quick! Abort the mission, abort the mission… 

“Ah yes, Marian!” Vernon faked understanding and tried his hardest to salvage the situation “Yes dear, that sounds lovely, I’m sure you’ll have a splendid time.”

Petunia calmed down a bit and huffed “Yes, I think I shall.”

“Mommy” Dudley chirped in.

“Yes, dear?”

“Schools starting in fifteen minutes, shouldn't we get ready to go?”

“Oh Goodness, look at the time. Yes, you should, oh what would I do without you Duddeykins!” she cooed and bent over and kissed his forehead.

Joffrey’s lip curled in disgust.

After quickly getting dressed into his ‘School uniform’ which Joffrey noted was far to big for him and being ushered into the car and having been forced to sit through another particularly disgusting ‘car ride’ Dudley and Joffrey finally arrived at ‘school’.

It was disgusting. It was littered with dirty, peasant children playing. Joffrey looked around at all of their ugly freckled faces and cringed.

He slowly followed Dudley up a path and into a room full bags, seeing Dudley carelessly drop his satchel, Joffrey did the same with his own. A bell rang and a fat, pimpled woman with dark black hair waddled out of the doorway and Joffrey looked around to see that at least a dozen other children had made their way into the room.

“You lot!” she barked “School’s startin’, get to ye classrooms!”

Joffrey had no idea what the woman meant, so he just followed Dudley into a room with carefully divided desks, he sat down and waited nervously, hoping he had done the right thing.

The fat toad from earlier waddled in.

Oh Goodness, not her.

“Le’start” she grumbled. What did that mean exactly?

She carefully examined each child's face before tossing them a pencil and a page. When she reached Joffrey, she scrunched up her nose and lifted her head arrogantly before throwing him the equipment. Joffrey glared and discreetly made an inappropriate gesture when she moved onto the child behind her.

He took a look at the sheet.

‘What’s 7 plus 2?’ was the first question. Perhaps it would get harder as they moved along and he would get some questions about battle planning. Then it struck him, he was a fourteen-year-old in a ten-year-old’s body. He was practically a genius, in his old body it took him almost double the time to learn things than the average student but here… 

He smugly answered the question and each question that came afterwards with much ease. 

Another bell rang and Joffrey followed a hoard of grimy children to a room filled with food. He looked to see what the other children were doing and saw that they had collected a plate and had each began serving themselves food. So he did the same and tried to get anything of value.

Once he had finished serving himself he sat on one of the chairs and looked at the food he had gotten.

He grimaced. 

This was not like Petunia’s cooking. 

This was not fit for a king.

Just as he was about to pick up the plastic fork and force himself to eat, he felt a presence looming over him. Joffrey turned around to see a smug looking Dudley and a beefy looking blonde boy.

“The boys and I,” Dudley began and Piers snaked out from behind him. “Think it’s about time to play our favourite game: Harry-Hunting!” 

The other gang members cackled and rubbed their hands together menacingly.

No. Thank. You. 

“Pardon?” Joffrey quirked an eyebrow. 

“You heard us!” Piers snapped “So scram.”

Were they trying to mock him? Their elder by three years? The king of the bloody Seven Kingdoms? (No pun intended.) He was finding it harder and harder to act civil. 

“Actually,” Joffrey rose from his seat “I don’t think I shall.”

Now at least half the school was looking on. 

“You-you can’t do that! They’re our leaders!” an ugly, brown-haired, freckled child cried accusingly. 

“Nobody asked for your opinion John!” replied the beefy blonde, seemingly oblivious to the fact the other child was defending him. 

“Yeah, John… Don’t presume we want your help!” Piers said.

Joffrey used the time the children were arguing to escape.

After another few tedious hours of easing through class, the bell rang obnoxiously through the halls and children swarmed to the exits. Joffrey followed them and prayed to the Gods that the pig was nowhere near him. 

“Hey Harry.” Joffrey turned to meet the eyes of a small red-headed girl with brilliant blue eyes. “Listen, Harry. I know where Dudley and Piers are and I thought since you…”

Joffrey beckoned for the child to continue. 

“Since ye helped me with that maths homework last week, I might lend ye’ a hand. Keep in mind I ain't doing this outta’ charity or pity or anything gross like that... I’m not like that so don’t think I’ll be helping ya’ from now on!” She confirmed “But I got information from Stan that Dudley’s gang are going to be hanging around the west-wing this morning, so I guess you should stay away from there. 

Joffrey wasn't sure what the ‘west-wing’ or who ‘Stan’ was, but he was grateful for the advice regardless. 

“Thank you, my lady. You have my gratitude and I shall never forget this.”

The girl blushed slightly before scampering away.

Joffrey, not knowing what to do with himself, just mopped around the halls depressively. He avoided human company like it was the plague, in fear that it could be the pig and his mates.

He sighed miserably and found himself sitting in the corner of a dingy classroom with a locked door, having no clue what to do.

He sighed again.

This was extremely boring.

He picked himself up and made his way over to the door when he suddenly heard voices. 

Joffrey placed an ear to the keyhole.

“S-stop it, I didn't mean too!” a little boy cried, pathetically.

“Oh, but you did.” Dudley snickered “I didn't matter whether you meant it or not, I tripped over your undone shoelaces, because of your mistake. 

Piers grabbed the whimpering boy by the scruff of the neck..

“Fight, fight, fight.” the blonde oaf and Dudley chanted encouragingly.

What followed was the most foolish display Joffrey had ever forced himself to watch.

Piers stumbled over to the boy and tried to land a few punches to the face only to be easily sidestepped. The same process would repeat over and over again.

The boy was making a mockery of himself.

After about two minutes of watching the drunken brawl, Joffrey had enough. He unlocked the door and stepped out.

“Stop, stop, stop! You’re doing it wrong.” barked Joffrey, which captured the attention of the evil trio. 

They turned to look at him.

“You are making a fool of yourself, I’ll show you how to do it properly,” he said lazily, walking over to the boy and throwing him plastic lightsaber from Dudley’s bag and taking one for himself. He had stolen them just in case he was ever in need of protection.

“Just who do you think you are?” The blonde began, only to then be hushed by Dudley, who wanted to see what would happen next. 

"And who are you, boy?" Joffrey asked in a commanding tone, turning to the whimpering boy. 

“Keith...”

“Well then Keith” Joffrey mocked, the name sounded like a sort of disease. “That was my cousin you tripped over, did you know that?”

“I didn't do it on purpose, Harry, really!”

“Don’t ever call me by that name” Joffrey spat “Pick up your sword, boy”

“It’s a lightsaber.” the boy replied, and looked at Joffrey like he was stupid.

“PICK IT UP” Joffrey screamed, and Dudley and his pals each took a step back.

Joffrey lunged at him, hitting the joints of Keith’s arms and knees with the ‘sword’ and making him drop his lightsaber. When the boy was about to try and grab the ‘lightsaber’ Joffrey quickly slammed his own into the boy's knuckles, making him scream in pain and fall to the ground. Joffrey finished his display with a graceful kick to the boy’s stomach.

He turned to face his audience.  
They looked stunned -- amazed. Seemingly oblivious to the fact that defeating a whimpering, weaponless, skinny child was not what one would call a ‘hard opponent’.

“Harry’s a jedi?” Piers muttered with shock. 

Dudley stepped forward. 

“That was amazing! You were like-like a ninja!”

joffrey didn't know what a ninja was, but it sounded like a compliment, so he used it as an excuse to arrogantly flip his hair. 

“C-could you teach us how to do that?” Piers asked. The blonde oaf offered Joffrey a half smile, which he did not return.

Eh... Joffrey guessed it wouldn't hurt to teach them a few things, he was three years their elder after all. 

Life was going to be very hard from now on, but he would try and be patient. He needed to find a way home after all. Yes, he would be civil, cunning even, and wait for a chance to attack, as a cat does with a mouse. Like a Lannister. He would make his ancestors proud. But first, he needed to understand what was going on. Not because he was a boy of any actual intellect but because there was no other choice. 

_Tea time with Mrs Figg…_

“Well you see, Mr Dumbledore,” Miss Figg began, careful to make sure she had poured the appropriate amount of tea into each cup. “I have always thought Harry was a nice boy, you see, but lately…” 

“Y-yes, Mrs. Figg?” Dumbledore nervously urged her to continue and wiped a tear of sweat off his brow with a napkin. 

“Why, he’s been even better than usual!” Mrs Figg replied cheerfully “Not only has he become extremely popular around here, but people are calling him a genius and he has already moved up a grade at school!”

Well, this news was better than Dumbledore expected.

“I’m glad to hear that Mam! And thank you for graciously providing me with this delicious tea.” Dumbledore chuckled, “I’m afraid I must be going since I am a busy man.” 

“Don’t go, don’t go. You never come to visit!” Mrs Figg pleaded.

“I really don’t want to intrude-”

“Nonsense, nonsense! Please sit down.” Mrs Figg said beckoning to the chair.

“Very well...” said Dumbledore reluctantly.

After about twenty minutes looking through photo albums upon photo albums of Mrs Figg’s demented cats, Dumbledore polietly excused himself.

Leaning on the gate outside was Lucius Malfoy, his back arched elegantly with perfect grace. He turned to Dumbledore.

“How is the... situation?” Lucius asked slowly. 

“Everything appears to be,” Dumbledore replied with a wink, “Adequate.” 

_A letter for Joffrey and a fateful encounter_

* * *

Joffrey had now spent exactly six days in the new realm. (He had finally decided this place was a new realm because he could not possibly imagine the things he had encountered to be part of The Seven Kingdoms.) He had not been forced into manual labour and he was actually given private quarters instead of a small cupboard. He acquired these things with the help of Dudley’s who had kindly agreed to convince his parents to treat Joffrey with some (reasonably minimal) respect in exchange for sword lessons - or, er, excuse me - lessons on mastering ‘the Force’. 

The leaders of the household mostly ignored Joffrey, while Dudley, (unlike like the other children of the school who he had managed to make revere him) was simply polite. He didn't know why the other school children had looked up to him but it seemed that as soon as Joffrey had formed his alliance with the Dudley-boy and his gang, he was respected. Now, whenever he walked into a room at the school, people would bow and chant “my King”. It was likely because he had assumed the position of the gang's leader, placing him at the top of the school’s hierarchy. Joffrey relished power and didn’t mind that no one truly recognised him as the King of the Seven Kingdoms… 

Stupid. 

After another tiring breakfast listening to Dudley's woes, Joffrey had been sent outside to fetch the mail.  
When he opened the mailbox, he flicked through them until he reached a royal looking one.

It read:

Mr. H. Potter  
‘The second bedroom’  
4 Privet Drive,  
Little Whinging,  
Surrey

Ah, it was addressed to his vessel. Which was quite odd when Joffrey thought about it, seeing as before he his current body/form was of a mere servant boy. Why would anybody send a servant boy such prestiged letters? And to Joffrey’s knowledge, the boy had had no friends prior to Joffrey possessing his body and how did they know where he slept? Yet, here it was, addressed so specifically, there could be no mistake. 

Mr. H. Potter

Joffrey’s eyes narrowed.

This was very odd.

The envelope was thick and heavy made of yellowish parchment and the address was written in emerald-green ink. 

Turning the envelope over, his hands trembling, Joffrey saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion- not dissimilar to the Lannister’s symbol, an eagle, a badger, and a snake surrounding a large letter H. Joffrey wondered whether the ‘H’ stood for Harry and instantly became more (if it’s possible) full of himself. 

"Hurry up, boy!" shouted Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" He chuckled at his own joke. Pathetic. 

Joffrey went back to the kitchen, still staring at his letter. He handed Vernon a bill and some postcard before sitting down and slowly opening the yellow envelope.

Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk."

Dudley looked over to see Joffrey ripping oven the letter and dashed over to him.

“Harry,” whispered Dudley harshly, “What are you doing?”

“Got a letter” Joffrey explained eloquently and flipped open the envelope, showing Dudley his own name printed in green ink. 

Dudley's eyes widened. He suddenly grabbed Joffrey by the arm and pulled him upstairs to the second bedroom, shutting the door behind him. 

“Might - hear - us - take - away - letter…” Dudley explained, panting heavily.

“I see...” 

“But, who would want to be writing- to you?”

Joffrey shrugged his shoulders and Dudley rolled his eyes.

“Well hurry up then, open it!” Dudley said, sitting on the bed next to Joffrey.

He did as he was commanded, and continued to rip open the envelope to reveal the letter.

“Dear Mr, Potter,” read Joffrey, “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Ho-”

“You-whoo Duddykins, where are you hiding?” cooed a voice from behind the door.

Dudley and Joffrey looked at each other in pure horror.

They heard the sound of the door opening and then saw the looming silhouette of a figure shadowed before them. 

Joffrey turned to Petunia, whose face was transforming from its normal fake tan colour to a creamy pale white - then to an angry red, her eyes opening wide in shock before narrowing into an icy glare. 

She snatched the letter off them, commanded them to wait there and told them that they were not to go to the living room for an hour or so, before angrily storming out of the room. 

“So are we just gonna sit here and wait then?” asked Dudley with dismay. 

Joffrey shook his head.

Dudley and Joffrey silently agreed to listen in.

They crept downstairs and walked over to the door. Joffrey placed his ear to the keyhole and Dudley lay flat on his stomach to listen and peered through the crack between the door and floor. 

"Vernon," Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "Look at the address! How could they have possibly know where he sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house, do you?"

"Watching- no, spying- might be following us..." Vernon muttered wildly.

"But what should we do, Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want-"

"No." he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get an answer... Yes, that's best... we won't do anything…” 

"But --"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took him in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

Hearing the sounds of footsteps coming to the door, Dudley grabbed Joffrey by the wrist and pulled him back into the second bedroom.

“Harry, I think it’s about time you did some explaining!” Dudley looked at Joffrey very seriously.

Oh no, Dudley was going to ask if he really was Harry, Joffrey thought with disdain. He wasn't prepared for this! 

“Harry,” Dudley began grimly.

Joffrey looked around the room nervously.

“Are you a Jedi?” 

“Excuse me?” Joffrey allowed disbelief to spread across his face.

Dudley, seeing his baffled expression asked again, this time a little less confidently, “Harry, are you a Jedi?”

“Dudley, what the f*ck is a Jedi?”

“You know- A Jedi!” Dudley explained helpfully.

Joffrey raised a brow.

“Well I just thought, with everything that’s going on- You might be…” he trailed off, twiddling his thumbs, embarrassed. 

Joffrey didn’t know what a Jedi was, but if they were kings that hijacked small children’s bodies, he may be one. 

Dudley saw Joffrey’s thoughtful face and continued “Ya’ know, protectors of the galaxy, lightsabers, attractive sisters...”

Well, that didn’t sound like him. 

“No.”

“What?” 

“I am not a Jedi.”

“Oh- yeah, yeah- o-of course.” Dudley replied far too quickly, avoiding eye contact with Joffrey. 

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley and Joffrey were in shock after yesterday’s events. 

Dudley suddenly screamed and whacked his father with his very cool Smelting stick (which Joffrey wished for immensely) before Dudley kicked his mother and demanded Joffrey’s letter to be returned to him. When Dudley’s parents refused, Dudley threw his stuffed tortoise through the greenhouse roof but they still didn't get to see that letter! 

Petunia went out to collect the mail and screamed, “There's another one! 'Mr. H. Potter, The Smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive-’”

With a strangled cry, Vernon leapt from his seat and ran down the hall with Joffrey right behind him. 

Vernon had to wrestle Dudley to the ground to snatch the letter from him, which was made difficult by the fact that Joffrey had grabbed Vernon around the neck from behind. After a minute of confused fighting, (in which everyone got hit a lot by the Smelting stick), Vernon straightened up, gasping for breath, with Joffrey's letter (very crushed and slightly ripped) clutched in his hand. 

"Go to your cupboard! I mean- your bedroom," he wheezed at Joffrey. "Dudley… go- just go!"

Joffrey paced round and round his new room. Someone knew where he was sleeping. Surely that meant they'd try again? And this time he'd make sure they didn't fail. He grabbed Dudley and together they made a plan.

At six o'clock Dudley woke Joffrey up and sent him downstairs to try and locate the letter.

He was going to wait for the ‘postman’, Dudley had told him, on the corner of Privet Drive and get the letters for number four first. His heart hammered as he crept across the dark hall towards the front door- 

Joffrey leapt into the air; he'd trodden on something big and squishy on the doormat- something alive!

Lights clicked on upstairs and to his horror, Joffrey realized that the big, squishy something had been the pig’s face. 

The ‘Vernon’ man had degraded himself to rest at the foot of the front door in a plastic cocoon, clearly making sure that Joffrey or Dudley didn't do exactly what he'd been trying to do. He shouted at Joffrey for about half an hour and then told him to go back to bed. Joffrey shuffled miserably off into the second bedroom and by the time he got back, half an hour later, the mail had arrived, right into Vernon's lap. 

Joffrey could see three letters addressed in green ink.

“I want-" he began, but the pig was tearing the letters into pieces before his eyes. 

Vernon didn't go to work that day. He stayed at home and nailed up the mail slot, like an idiot, thinking it would stop the arrival of those dreaded letters. 

"See," he explained to Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "If they can't deliver them, they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him, like a buffoon.

The letters just kept coming and coming that week, finding new ways to enter each time, through windows, toasters and chimneys. That morning, Vernon announced they were going on a quick ‘vacation’.

Vernon slammed the whole family into the car and began driving.

They drove… and they drove. Even Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then, Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while. "Shake it off... shake it off," he would mutter whenever he did this, pretending to be a pop star.

They didn't stop to eat or drink all day. By nightfall, Dudley was howling. He'd never had such a bad day in his life- neither had Joffrey. They were both hungry and Dudley had missed five ‘television programs’ he'd wanted to see- whatever they were, and Joffrey had never gone so long without doing something violent or impulsive.

After a few more hours of driving, Petunia timidly asked “Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" which Vernon promptly ignored.

Throughout the ride, the man would stop, get out, and get back in like some sort of lunatic.

"Daddy's gone mad, hasn't he?" Dudley asked.

Joffrey nodded vigorously. 

“It's Monday," Dudley told Joffrey, "’The Great Humberto's’ on tonight, I’ve missed it.”

“Do you think your father shall stop soon?” asked Joffrey quietly.

“I don’t know.” Dudley responded miserably.

"Found the perfect place!" they heard Vernon announce, "Come on, everyone out!"

After a tiresome boat ride with an ugly, toothless man, the family approached a shack.

Joffrey leaned over to Dudley and whispered, “surely they aren’t planning on making us stay there...”

Dudley's lip curled up in disgust. 

“I certainly hope not.” 

Dudley's father foolishly tried to light a fire that night out of empty chip bags and got furious when it did not work.

"Could do with some of those letters now, eh?" the madman said cheerfully.

Dudley agreed to sleep on the floor that night while Joffrey lay comfortably on the sofa.

The storm ripped through trees with great fury and Joffrey could not sleep. He couldn't imagine his reaction a week ago to being told he would be sleeping on a moth-eaten sofa, in a shack that was practically falling apart.

He looked over to the corner of the room to see a puddle of water leaking through the crack of the door. Joffrey grumbled in despair. The pig’s snores were growing louder and louder and making it’s way into a crescendo.

When it finally hit, Joffrey had enough. 

He stumbled off the Sofa and whacked him. Dudley did not react, he just kept on snoring. After several failed wacks and attempts at waking the boy, he finally gave up. 

Joffrey crawled back up onto the sofa.

BOOM.

The whole shack shivered and Joffrey sat up, frozen in horror.

BOOM.

"Where's the cannon?" Dudley jerked awake and asked stupidly.

"Who's there?" Joffrey heard Vernon shout, "I’m warning you, I'm armed!" 

SMASH. 

The door fell off its hinges. 

BANG.

A beastly Half-Giant could be seen at the doorway. He looked suspiciously like Joffrey’s father, King Robert, but instead of a well-trimmed kingly appearance, he was rocking a dishevelled peasant-like sort of look and was about double as tall, with beady, black eyes. 

Father had come to save him!

Joffrey rushed over to what he thought to be his father and wrapped his arms around the man's waist firmly.

“D-Daddy?!” he cried against the cotton of the giant's shirt, “Have you come to rescue me from this nightmare?” 

“I think that there’s been,” the man wheezed out from under Joffrey’s tight grip. “A bit of a mistake.”

* * *

NEXT TIME… 

“Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I’ll be in Slytherin, all our family have been - imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn't you? 

“Oh yes,” Joffrey responded, having no clue what the boy was talking about, but already holding a strong dislike for Hufflepuffs by the boy’s words alone. “I don’t think a could bear the shame.” 

The child smiled and nodded his head, approvingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello Everybody! I do hope you enjoyed the second chapter of this story. (Please keep in mind we don’t own Game of Thrones and Harry Potter or the characters within these stories.) 
> 
> *virtual hug for reading*


	3. Off We Go To Neverland, chapter three

_**Mishandling faeries...** _

"No Lucius, you're looking at it wrong." Dumbledore stabbed his fork into a juicy, pork sausage. "It's not about manipulation - so to speak - it's about, er, optimisation."

"Optimisation?" Lucius quirked an eyebrow.

"And maybe a little persuasion."

Lucius looked at Dumbledore in horror.

"Surely you can't mean-" he said while waving his fork accusingly in Dumbledore's direction "That-that you would do that too-"

Dumbledore chuckled, and the colour in Lucius's face drained.

"Dumbledore, that is completely immoral! That is not the correct way in dealing with faeries!" Lucius cried and shook his head in disbelief.

"Oh, calm yourself, Lucius! They really aren't human- just nasty little creatures anyway."

Lucius rose from his seat.

"Not human? Not human!" Lucius shouted, attracting the attention of the other customers.

"THAT IS A VIOLATION OF THEIR RIGHTS!" he screamed, throwing his fork in rage which landed directly against the glass holding Dumbledore's mango flavoured milkshake and tipped it over, making the sugary, mango substance splatter everywhere - including Dumbledore's nice new jacket.

"MY NICE NEW JACKET. MY NICE _NEW_ JACKET!" Dumbledore roared in outrage "YOU JUST RUINED MY NICE NEW JACKET!"

Lucius frantically muttered an apology as Dumbledore huffed and sat down. A scantily dressed muggle waitress rushed over and cleaned up the mess. Albus and Lucius ate the remainder of their meal in silence.

Lucius's phone started ringing.

"Hello, this is Lucius Malfoy speaking." he chirped.

"Who are they?" asked Dumbledore

"It's the CIA," Lucius frowned "They want us…"

* * *

_**Hagrid's mission.** _

"I think that there's been," Hagrid tried to wheeze out from underneath the child's tight grip. "A bit of a mistake."

Hagrid looked around the room, and much to his relief the Dursley's shrugged their shoulders, confirming his right to confusion. Harry Potter began to cry tears of... joy? Hagrid tried to pry the boy off him, only for the child squeeze tighter.

"Oh, father," the boy wailed "it's been so hard, these people- they're- they're _savages!_ I've tried to stay strong, keep my mouth shut, and wait patiently for somebody to rescue me- and oh, how difficult it has been!"

Hagrid nervously chuckled and the boy looked up at him. He wore a look of contemplation for a few short moments before furrowing his brow.

"You've grown bigger, father," Harry said slowly, eyes carefully examining Hagrid up and down.

Hagrid duct down to the boy's level, as he had seen Dumbledore do with his own student's and said: "See that's where 'yer wrong boy, I ain't 'yer father, and I've always stayed about the same height since I was twenty, meself."

Harry immediately untangled himself from the giant's waist and took a step back.

"So you're not my father?"

"Nope."

"But you sound like my father and look like him." the boy said, absolutely scandalised.

"But I ain't!"

"I suppose you are rather tall and poor and _alive…"_ he trailed off. "Who are you?" he then asked, rather bluntly.

"Me name's Hagrid, Las' time I saw you, you was only a baby. Yeh look a lot like yeh dad, but yeh've got yeh mom's eyes." Hagrid chuckled softly "If you don't mind me asking, why did ya think I was yer father?"

"No reason, sir, I've just been feeling a little out of sorts as of late." the boy replied, with a vocabulary that did not suit his age, and frankly, made Hagrid feel very uncomfortable.

"Oh, don't worry son, we all get those days..." Hagrid said understandably.

"I demand that you leave at once, sir!" one of the muggles yelled. "You are breaking and entering!"

"Ah, shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into a corner of the room. Hagrid then turned back to Joffrey and saw how his eyes had lit up.

"That was incredible!"

"Anyway, Harry," said the giant, remembering the script Dumbledore had asked him to follow "a very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

As Harry was examining the contents of the squished box, Hagrid sat down on a dusty chair, almost breaking it because of his weight. He began to take out a copper kettle, a squashy package of sausages, a poker, a teapot, several chipped mugs, and a bottle of some amber liquid that he took a swig from before starting to make tea, all from his coat pocket, like some sort of Mary Poppins wanna-be.

Vernon turned to his son and sharply informed him: "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

"Yet great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

Harry burst into hysterical laughter.

Hagrid was pleased he was able to make the formally-depressive boy happier and passed him a sausage which the child took eagerly.

"I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts," said Hagrid "Yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Excuse me?"

"Hogwarts!"

"I don't know what that is."

Hagrid's mouth morphed into an annoyed frown

"I knew yeh weren't gettin' yer letters but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know bou' Hogwarts, fer cryin' out loud! Did yeh never wonder where yet parents _learned_ it all?"

"Sir, I haven't the faintest idea of what you are referring to."

"But yeh must know about yet mom and dad," he said. "I mean, they're famous- You're famous. Surely you know who you are!"

Harry looked panicked.

"Are you implying I'm not Harry Potter?" Harry asked slowly, eyes narrowing.

"OF COURSE 'YER BLOODY HARRY POTTER!" Hagrid screamed, enraged.

Hagrid turned to the Dursleys and started to shout at them as they backed into a wall. When he turned back to face Harry, he saw him giggling like some sort of maniac.

"Harry yer-"

"A king, I know."

"No, yer a wizard!"

"-A what?" gasped Harry.

"A wizard, o' course," said Hagrid.

" _No, I'm not."_

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are," Hagrid repeated, getting annoyed.

He then passed the letter over to Harry and watched as the boy scanned over it's words.

"He's not going," one of the Dursley prunes announced.

Hagrid grunted.

"I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop him," he said.

"A what?" said Harry, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "It's what we call non-magic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

Harry smiled, amused.

"It's not considered derogatory, is it sir? Because if it isn't I'd quite like to use it from now on."

"Not to my knowledge, it ain't."

"Gallopin' Gorgons, that reminds me!" said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse and from yet another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled an owl - A real, live, rather ruffled-looking owl as well as a long quill and a roll of parchment. With his tongue perched between his teeth, he scribbled a note that read:

Dear Professor Dumbledore,

I've given Harry his letter.

Harry seems a bit different from what I thought, bit mad if you ask me. But you know what they say, mad people are always best - or right- or somethin' like that.

Hagrid.

"As Vernon said," Petunia squawked, "He's not going!"

"Shut up, you filthy little muggle." Hary tested, rolling the word 'muggle' slightly, enjoying the sound of the word.

Petunia stumbled back against the wall.

"It's gettin' late and we've got lots ter do tomorrow," said Hagrid loudly. "Gotta get up ter town, get all yer books an' that."

He took off his thick black coat and threw it to Harry.

"You can kip under that," he said. "Don' mind if it wriggles a bit - I think I still got a couple o' dormice in one o' the pockets."

* * *

It had been a mere week since the giant's arrival, and number four, Privet drive was in chaos. Mr. and Mrs. Dursley were fuming as the giant's arrival was not to be expected and the couple were adamant they had taken precautions on making sure that this stayed that way. It was common knowledge that if one had enough determination to achieve something, it could be done; or it was at least in the Dursley household. But by some great miracle, they had been able to get to the boy anyway.

Joffrey shared the Dursley's anger too, which in his case was not given unfairly. Something seemed to be taunting him, some beast from above! Here he was, thinking that some great messenger had come to rescue him, and cried into filthy arms. He had made a mockery of himself! There was not a day within to the passing week that you could see a member of the Dursley household wearing a smile, apart from Dudley of course, who was in perfect spirits, he was to go to Smelting's soon and was beyond excited.

"Alright then," Petunia said one morning "I guess that beast will come to take you soon."

"I guess he will," Joffrey replied.

And in perfect timing, the man banged on the door.

"Good luck, Harry." Dudley smiled encouragingly.

Joffrey did not respond.

As Joffrey slowly trailed after the 'Hagrid' man, he couldn't help but notice a large white bird perched on his shoulder.

"Man- Hagrid." Joffrey corrected himself "There appears to be an owl on your shoulder."

"Pay him." Hagrid barked, reasonably.

"Ah yes, but how do I do that?"

"He wants paying' fer delivering' the paper. Look in the pockets." Hagrid told him. Joffrey reached into the man's pockets and made a confused face. The coat seemed to be made of nothing but pockets - bunches of keys, slug pellets, balls of string, peppermint humbugs, teabags… finally, Joffrey pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five Knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?" Joffrey giggled childishly.

"The little bronze ones."

* * *

_**Off to Neverland, we go…** _

"Harry," Hagrid suddenly looked depressed "There's something I ought to tell ya'"

Hagrid started to tremble a little.

"In _our_ world, they may look at you differently" Hagrid stopped "It's because you-you's the chosen one." Joffrey started madly giggling, thinking the man was joking. Hagrid looked down at him, concerned.

"I ain't lying, boy, you're the _chosen one_ "

"Elaborate, strange man." Joffrey ordered.

"Well, 'bout twenty years ago, this evil wizard started lookin' fer followers. Got some, too! Some were afraid of him and others just wanted a bit o' his power 'cause he was gettin' himself power aiight. Those were dark days, harry. No one knew who ter trust and terrible things happened… This evil wizard was takin' over not only the 'Wizarding World' but the muggle realm as well! O'course, some stood up to him an' he simply killed 'em. Horribly, too. One o' the only safe places left in the world was Hogwarts. I reckon Dumbledore's the only one _You-Know-Who_ was (or should I say _is_ ) afraid of."

"Oh my… this Dumbledore man sounds epic!" exclaimed Joffrey.

"This wizard didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway. Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch an' wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the myst'ry is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before... probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side."

Hagrid began to sweat.

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em... maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you were all living, on Halloween ten years ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an' - an' -"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose - which sounded like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said. "But it's just that sad - knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find - anyway..."

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then - an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing - he tried to kill you, too. Wanted ter make a clean job of it, I suppose, or maybe he just liked killin' by then. But it backfired! So you're the chosen one. People think ya' killed him, but he's still out there if you ask me.. " Hagrid finished, looking around the streets nervously.

This time Joffrey giggled so madly he could frighten grown men. He was to be a hero, of course, he was. The heavens were not mocking him, they were simply testing his courage. That must be his purpose, to remove this 'you-know-who'. Perhaps once he had completed the quest, he would be returned to his true home- _his_ kingdom. He was here to save this sad, pathetic and strange little world he had found himself in. Joffrey smiled sheepishly, and a small wave of relief washed over his senses.

"Oh sounds terrible..." Joffrey began, in a much better mood. "By the way, how did you manage to get up to the lighthouse? It was surrounded by water and there was no boat in sight!"

"I flew."

Joffrey's eyes lit up.

"On a dragon?"

Hagrid laughed. "Oh, I wish… No, just a broom I'm afraid." The man replied, reasonably.

Patience was key in times like this, or, better put; a necessity. As the giant blabbered away, Joffrey lost his dignity for a short while and faked a passionate interest - which seemed to please the giant immensely - taming the beast for the moment. Alas, Joffrey could not find it within himself to believe the scruffy man's tales of magic and battle, they resembled much of the tales that his mother would tell him when he was young. Pity that.

After being informed of the matter of 'goblins' and 'banks', Joffrey was subjected to another particularly harrowing 'car ride', although this car was a little longer, with far more seats and grimey-looking people. After the nasty event, Hagrid and Joffrey made their way up the streets of busing London, _(which did not confuse Joffrey as much as one may believe it would, he seemed to have developed an immunity towards such a thing these past days)._ They approached a dirty, ordinary little pub, which would usually be ignored by the general public unless it was pointed out.

"In here," said Hagrid, pointing his chubby finger towards the pub's door.

"Here- _really?"_ Joffrey questioned.

"Yup, this is it, the Leaky Cauldron, famous it is!"

Now, it's important to mention Joffrey considered himself a very generous lad; he was always open to new approaches to things _(the word 'considered' is key to this sentence_ ). But this- _now_ _this_ was just a lie.

"This place? Why, it looks like a brothel!" Joffrey said, eyes narrowing in suspicion.

"This place, ya' gotta' see inside to get it." the man replied, though he seemed unsure of his own words.

As they stepped inside, Joffrey took pride in his eye for untruths. This was no place to be marvelled at as it seemed like a normal inn. The pub was almost completely barren apart from a few women sitting is the corner drinking generous sized glasses of deep red wine. There was also a very short, brown-haired man with a bagpipe in deep conversation with a rather regal-looking long-bearded old man, who also smoked a long pipe. Near the stools sat a man who looked suspiciously like a toothless walnut, in deep thought. Hagrid approached the bartender and suddenly forcefully clapped his hands onto Joffrey's shoulder.

"Lookee' 'ere, Hogwarts business"

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Joffrey, "Is this - can this be -?"

Did this man know who he was? Joffrey suddenly felt dread creep up his spine.

The Leaky Cauldron had gone completely still and silent.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harry Potter... what an honour!"

Huh...?

In a split second, Joffrey put on his kingly facade that he had used to frighten his new 'schoolmates' and the people of king's landing.

"Ah, the honour is mine, sir." Joffrey smiled charmingly, he didn't miss the feeling that a person's gaze from behind him had become very intense. His senses had grown much in the last week.

"A saviour - and a polite one at that!"

The man scurried over from behind the counter, tears in his eyes and head downcast, in a similar fashion to the begging peasants of King's Landing.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

Everyone in the room was looking at him in awe. Joffrey could almost physically feel his ego rising. He puffed his chest out a little.

After a number of people had eagerly introduced themselves, Joffrey noticed that same feeling of being watched intently- but it was a horrid feeling, not like the interest the other people in the bar offered him. Joffrey turned to meet the eyes of a pale young man who was slowly creeping towards him. He immediately hated the poor, pathetic man.

"Professor Quirrell!" beamed Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

Joffrey turned his head from Hagrid to Quirrell and instantly recognised the source of his dislike. It was the eyes- they had this sort of snake-like look to them. They looked _cunning._ They were quite similar to Littlefinger's eyes- the man who always tried to ruin things for him and tell him what to do. Everyone seemed to like the 'Baelish' character, but Jofffrey despised him, mind you, he despised lots of people. Mother had called him a scheming snake- which Joffrey profusely agreed with. He decided he did not like this man one bit. All the more reason to stand guard.

"P-P-Potter," stammered Quirrell, purposely avoiding Joffrey's outstretched hand, "C-can't t-tell you how p- pleased I am to meet you."

Quirrell face briefly made a cunning, little grin.

Joffrey returned his smile, making it last a while longer, and slightly more sarcastic. He tilted his head slightly. Quirrell's face turned blank for a few seconds before returning to it's nervous default.

'Who are you? Why are you so creepy? What do you teach? HOW DARE YOU LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT! Is that stutter real? How'd you get that stutter? Please don't tell me you own any brothels…' Joffrey wanted to say all at once, but steadily reminded himself he was not king for the time being and would have to go about this a bit more wisely…

"What is it that you teach?" Joffrey quickly added: "Sir."

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts, er, must get going, gotta get that new book about vampires," muttered Professor Quirrell before quickly dashing out of the pub.

"Thought he'd been happier to see you, he's very good at them awkward jokes, surprised he didn't make one..." Hagrid observed, confused.

"Nerves?" Joffrey offered.

"Must be."

Hagrid began to madly count the bricks on the wall.

"Three up... two across," he muttered. "Right, stand back, Harry."

He tapped the wall three times with the point of his umbrella.

The brick he touched quivered and in the middle, a small hole appeared. It grew wider and wider. A few seconds later they were facing an archway large enough even for Hagrid that led to a cobbled street which twisted and turned out of sight.

Now this, _this_ was impressive.

The street before them was a sight to behold. There were bright flashing colours of red, purple and white- all richly dyed cloths of velvet that people in the street wore. Each little shop that spiralled up the cobble path had its own quirks. One with a white and gold sign, signifying jewellery, and another a deep, rich red for fine silks. Joffrey looked around in awe. He had never seen a street so dirty, yet so clean. While the street was coated in cobwebs and bird faeces, not a single beggar could be seen whatsoever. Hagrid lead Joffrey to a large aristocratic building, that was located at the end of the road. As they approached it's steps, Joffrey looked up at an ominous looking-sign, painted dramatically in red blood. It read:

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

Joffrey thought it was absolutely _charming._

"Like I said, Yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it." said Hagrid.

A pair of ugly goblins bowed them through the silver doors and they were in a vast marble hall. About a hundred more of the ugly little things were sitting on high stools behind a long counter, scribbling in large ledgers, weighing coins in brass scales and examining precious stones through eyeglasses. The 'thing's' giggled amongst each other, and glared up at Hagrid and Joffrey for interrupting their nice chat. Joffrey hated the arrogant little things. Both him and Hagrid made their way up to the counter.

"Morning," said Hagrid to a free goblin. "We've come ter take some money outta Mr. Harry Potter's safe."...

After the goblin carefully inspected the key provided to him by Hagrid, he led them through another two grand doors and forced them into a smaller more dangerous looking car - which had no seat belts or railings to prevent Joffrey from falling out of it. After another nasty car ride that Joffrey had grown to despise so much, they were lead to a suspicious set of doors.

The goblin opened the doors and Joffrey was greeted to a room filled with gold and silver.

He turned to Hagrid and gave him a look that said quite plainly:

Is that it?

"Aren't you pleased, kid?" Hagrid asked, unsure as to why a small child would not be thrilled when treated with stacks of gold.

"Money is only worth something when it has been spent and you have something in your possession." Joffrey replied smugly, proud of himself.

"Woah, 'arry," Hagrid looked impressed "That's some wise sh*t, tha' is."

Joffrey nodded his head in agreement.

When they had left the bank, and were back on the stone streets of Diagon alley with Joff's pockets filled with gold, Joffrey noticed a white piece of parchment slowly falling out of Hagrid's pocket. "Excuse me Hagrid, I couldn't help but notice a note falling out of your pocket."

Hagrid slowly patted his sides down and pulled out the piece of paper.

His face turned blank for a few seconds, before violently turning red in rage.

"OH F*CKIN' 'ELL" Hagrid roared "I'VE FORGOTTEN VAULT THREE HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN!"

Hagrid squeezed the flap of skin between his brow with his thumb and finger and began counting to ten.

"Alright Harry," Hagrid finally said, at the number eight. "I seemed to of found 'meself in a bit of a conundrum 'ere, what I want you to do is find a shop called 'Madam Malkin's' and ask to get fitted, once 'ye finish, wait for me outside. Ya' got that 'arry?

Joffrey nodded his head and Hagrid stormed off back to Gringotts.

* * *

_**Making Friends (Forming alliances)** _

Joffrey inspected the street in search for the place, he looked around until his eyes raked over a deep blue sign, Ah!, 'Madam Malkin's' it read. He opened its oak door and a bell rang. A squat, smiling woman rushed over and asked:

"Hogwarts, dear? Got the lot here - another young man being fitted up just now, in fact."

Joffrey was lead to the back of the shop and placed on a large footstool, next to a blond ferret-like boy.

"Hello," said the child "Hogwarts, too?"

"Unfortunately." Joffrey replied dryly.

The boy giggled and gave him an understanding smile.

"Don't worry. It's not as bad as you might think. I've heard they give out treacle tarts on Wednesdays. Father wanted to send me to Durmstrang, but mother told him it was too far away. I suppose your parents wanted to send you somewhere else as well?"

"My parents are dead." Joffrey said bluntly, making sure to lower his head a little.

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that. Anyway," the boy smiled enthusiastically and continued. "My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at wands, when they come to fetch me, I think I'll drag them off to took at racing brooms. I don't see why the first years can't have their own. I think I'll bully father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow."

Joffrey immediately liked the boy.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No, don't really see the point." said Joffrey, not understanding why anyone would want a broom for entertainment purposes.

"I see," the boy looked contemplative for a moment and then asked: "Play Quidditch at all?"

"Yes." Joffrey lied, for not apparent reason - apart from the fear of being bested at something.

"Oh, wonderful! What position do you play?"

_Oh no._

" _Sweeping?_ I mean, er, beater!" Joffrey guessed, it sounded like something you would do with brooms.

"Oh good, maybe you could play with me in Hogwarts, I'll be going for seeker. Father says it's a crime if I'm not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you'll be in yet? I'm going to be a Slytherin, my whole family has been for centuries."

Joffrey took a moment to think, he guessed correctly the first time, who's to say he couldn't do it again? He remembered the four symbols and picked his favourite - the lion - yes - it reminded him of his own house.

"The, the- l-lion!" Joffrey stuttered nervously.

"Oh! Gryffindor, really? I thought maybe Ravenclaw for you. I suppose Gryffindors are respectable enough, bit stupid though." He smiled at Joffrey and then looked back towards the wall, his mouth suddenly curling in disgust.

"Imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, wouldn't you?"

"Oh yes," Joffrey responded, having no clue what the boy was talking about, but already holding a strong dislike for Hufflepuffs by the child's words alone. "I don't think I could bear the shame."

The child smiled and nodded his head approvingly.

Joffrey decided he rather liked this boy. The child reminded him suspiciously of himself. Not quite as smart, _of course_ , but enough like him for Joffrey to consider allowing the boy to follow him. First, he needed to win the child's approval and respect, then he could dub the eleven-year-old his first knight of the new realm.

Judging by the slight hint of arrogance in the boy's voice and the child's own hints of his wealth, Joffrey could only make one conclusion as to the boy's heritage: an aristocrat, a wealthy one at that. Joffrey quickly formed a plan in his mind. He took a leap of blind faith and asked:

"Are you by any chance one the great most noble houses of - "

The ferret did not finish the sentence as Joffrey had hoped.

"Mal-" Joffrey tested slowly

"Malfoy!" The boy looked both impressed and flattered "Yes I am, what gave it away?"

"The hair."

"Ah yes," Malfoy chuckled and patted his head. "We are known for our elegant and well-groomed locks."

Joffrey let out a sigh of relief.

"I say, look at that man!" said the boy suddenly, nodding toward the front window. Hagrid was foolishly smiling at Joffrey, and even though the man was a bumbling idiot, he couldn't help but smile back.

"Oh, him? Ah yes, that's Hagrid. I believe he's some sort of servant" Joffrey informed the child, pleased he knew something the other boy didn't.

The child's eyes lit up with recognition.

"I've heard of him!" I've been told he's a sort of savage," Malfoy told him, and Joffrey could only nod. "Lives in a hut on the school grounds and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."

Joffrey turned back to Hagrid, trying to picture the smiling man chugging down a bottle of bourbon. Yes, the image did suit him, strangely enough.

"Really?"

"Really." Malfoy confirmed.

After a long, awkward pause Malfoy took it upon himself to resume the conversation. "My favourite teams the 'Falmouth Falcons', Father told me their name was stupid but I can't say I agree. Oh, how rude of me! I forgot to ask what _your_ favourite team is!"

"The chasers!" Joffrey replied, far too quickly. That was what people did with balls right? Chase them.

Joffrey turned to the other boy, who was looking up at the ceiling, contemplating. "The chasers, the chasers, the chasers…" Malfoy trailed off.

"You know, I don't think I've ever actually heard of the chasers, where are they based?" asked Malfoy, turning back to Joffrey questioningly.

"Castamere." Joffrey lied with certainty. Mother had always told him if you were to come up with a plan, you must stick to it - and if your plan started to falter, continue it with great certainty so that your opponent may eventually submit and agree. Never give up, just keep on digging until your determination pulls through.

"Castamier?" Malfoy asked in disbelief.

"No, Castamere." Joffrey corrected.

" _Castamere,_ funny name for a place," Malfoy mused "I must confess, I've never heard of this 'Castamere' before, where is it exactly? Mexico?"

"Probably somewhere in Wales," the squat lady from earlier pitched in, holding a pair of scissors between her teeth. "Always have the funniest town names in Wales..."

"Ever been to Castamere?" Malfoy suddenly asked Joffrey.

"Yes." Joffrey lied.

"Was it nice there?"

"Yes, just _splendid_ \- truly _charming."_ Joffrey said quickly, hoping the other boy would not begin to see through his lies.

"Hm, Perhaps I should like to go…" the ferret-boy muttered under his breath.

"By the way, why is that _oaf-of-a-man_ with _you_ anyway?" the little boy asked. Before Joffrey could respond, Malfoy put his hand in front of Joff's face, in order to silence him.

"Don't tell me, Don't tell me, it's because your parents are dead!" Malfoy announced triumphantly. "I'm right, am I not? Tell me I'm right!" Joffrey nodded weakly and the ferret-boy beamed. Pleased that he was, indeed, correct.

"But they were our kind - our sort - weren't they? Your parents, I mean."

"Yes, of course." Joffrey responded, whatever the other 'sort' were, Joffrey wasn't sure if he liked the sound of them. "I don't think they should let the other sort in, do you?"

The boy nodded profusely.

"Why, I couldn't agree more! They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. It would be cruel to force them to attend, if you ask me. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the pure wizarding families." Yes, this boy could certainly help him on his quest to return home, but first, he needed to befriend the child. How was one supposed to go about forming alliances?

"Perhaps we shall meet again at Hogwarts, and maybe play on the same quidiatch- "

"Quidditch."

"Yes, 'quidditch' team."

"I would like that." Malfoy smiled. "Oh, and what's the name of your house- "

"Right then," Madam Malkin stood up, interrupting Malfoy "All done, boy. Off ya' trot."

Joffrey was ushered out of the store and pushed onto the wet hard concrete of Diagon Alley. He craned his neck - that was now throbbing painfully - up to take a better look at the perpetrator of the push's face. Madam Malkin looked down at Joffrey and gave him an angry sneer before shrewdly huffing "and a good day to you!".

Joffrey looked around frantically, trying to see if anyone else had witnessed the affair. This was a violation of his rights! To his dismay, nobody seemed to notice at all. Joffrey screamed in pure rage, and once again, nobody made any hint of a reaction - not even a slight quirk of the eyebrow - or a little gesture of the head to try and find the source of the noise.

Joffrey screamed again, this time a little louder, and out of curiosity rather than madness. But alas, he received no reaction whatsoever. People just kept on walking.

_How very strange._

As Joffrey slowly got up, he noticed how the world around him seemed ever so slightly _superficial._ Every step taken - every child's scream - every giggle or smile - was oddly formulaic. Not in the sense that people looked robotic, no, not at all. It was more as though they were feigning a sort of naturality.

Much to Joffrey dismay, he had often fallen victim to the privy of groaning philosophers thoughts. How he had hated being forced to listen to their ramblings simply because of his status as a prince, it was one of the first things he vowed to be rid of after he was married. ( _Though he had never gotten round to it.)_ But if there was one thing Joffrey could take away from his endless hours of being subjected to tales of celestial conspiracies, it was the idea that man had _choice_. In fact, Joffrey didn't need to listen to rambling old philosophers to know what choice was. It was what made most of him after all, what gave him the drive to do _everything_ and _anything_ he damn well pleased, and it seemed to be something that these people lacked.

Every single move they made seemed structured. It was almost as though they were puppets being controlled by a puppeteer. Everything was just ever so slightly _off._ Like this was one big board of chess, and the people were the pawns. Like this was all not _rea-_

"'Ello 'Arry, how are ya?" a voice interrupted Joffrey's existential meltdown, stopping him mid-rant. Joffrey looked around to see Hagrid's smiling face, holding out a scoop of mud on a pyramid of brick.

"Bought ya' an ice cream." the man informed him and Joffrey reluctantly took the ball of mud, holding it as though it were infected.

Hagrid looked at him expectedly.

Joffrey smiled at the man nervously. Hagrid kept staring. Goodness, what did he want? Was it maybe something to do with the ball of crap he had been presented with?

Joffrey looked up at the man, and then back down to the ice cream, then back to Hagrid, whose smile had grown a little wider.

So it was something to do with the mysterious purple blob! Joffrey slowly moved his finger up towards it and _poked._ He jerked his hand back in surprise. It was cold! Was this some sort of sick prank? Joffrey looked back up to Hagrid, whose brows were furrowed.

"Is there somethin' wrong with yer' ice cream 'arry?"

"No-no not at all sir!" Joffrey said, he had pledged to himself that he wouldn't let anyone find out he was not of this realm unless they were assisting him with returning to his home. He didn't want to wind up dead. So naturally, he couldn't let anyone be suspicious of him.

Joffrey slowly moved his head down to the thing and stuck out his tongue, he looked at Hagrid for confirmation and the man's smile became even broader as he leaned forward in anticipation. Joffrey licked the mysterious purple substance. It was sweet? He licked again, and then again. It wasn't half bad actually.

"Ya like yer ice cream 'arry?" asked Hagrid, cheerily.

"It's okay." Joffrey replied eloquently, keeping his dignity intact.

After a few hours of having been forcefully pulled in and out of shops, buying all the necessary equipment for his time at 'Hogwarts', the quest had almost been completed. Hagrid and Joffrey took a short break and the giant informed him he would be receiving a pet as his 'birthday present'.

"Just yer wand left - an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present." Hagrid had said "Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago, yeh'd be laughed at - an' I don' like cats, they make me sneeze." Joffrey nodded in agreement. "I'll get yer an owl. All the kids want owls, they're dead useful, carry yer mail an' everythin!'"

Joffrey eyes lit up with excitement! A pet! Perhaps he could get a real ugly one and bully it. Joffrey hadn't had a pet since he was six, but 'Gary' had been removed from him after a rather unfortunate accident with a dagger.

Twenty minutes later, they left Eeylops Owl Emporium, which had been dark and full of rustling and flickering, jewel-bright eyes. Joffrey now carried a large cage that held a mad looking snowy owl, who had funny eyes, feathers that stuck out crazily from the back of it head and a crooked beak. It was squawking madly at nearby pedestrians.

Joffrey liked his new owl very much, he was going to take _very good care of him_. Joffrey cackled madly, which captured the attention of Hagrid who looked at him, disturbed.

"I ain't heard a laugh like that since…" Hagrid muttered.

"Pardon?" Joffrey asked, looking up at the man.

"Nothin', nothin'. I was just wondering what ye' were going to name the mad little fella."

"I suppose I haven't thought about it." said Joffrey, he honestly hadn't.

"Yeh'd have to name 'im something that matched his personality," Hagrid informed Joffrey. "Like - er - maybe-"

"Aegon." Joffrey decided. "I'm going to name him Aegon."

"Aegon?" Hagrid quirked an eyebrow and looked deep in thought. "Well that's not really where I was goin' with that, I was thinking something along the lines of 'Tom'..."

"Tom?" Joffrey questioned, looking at Hagrid like he was stupid.

"Oh, don' give me that look boy. Some of the maddest people I know are called Tom. Yer know the man from Leaky Cauldron 'Arry?" Joff nodded. "He's a Tom. Back In the seventies, he ripped a man limb from limb because he tried to nick a pint, he did."

Joffrey scowled, he thought 'Aegon' rather suited the thing.

_*** * *** _

_**A trip to a madman.** _

After a few tiresome minutes of squabbling as to whose Owl name was better, Joffrey and Hagrid made a mutual agreement - no, an arrangement of sorts. They were going to decide its name after Olivanders, and if they couldn't agree, they would simply have to battle it out and kill each other- or bribe one another. It really didn't matter which one, as long as Joffrey was happy.

Joffrey entered the ugly little shop and Hagrid decided he would wait outside in order to calm down.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Joffrey jumped in fright.

"What in the seven hells- "

"Calm yourself, boy," whispered the ghost. "I am but a simple salesmen, no need to worry your royal self."

Joffrey looked around the room frantically, trying to spot the source of the noise. A human figure emerged from the darkness. An old man.

"Hello sir, I've been sent to retrieve, er, b-buy a wand from your shop." Joffrey whimpered, his knees shaking in fright.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon, Joffrey Baratheon."

Joffrey's entire body went numb. He looked up at the man's ghastly and ever so slightly ethereal-looking silver eyes that were piercing their way into his very soul. "H-how d-do you kn-know?" said Joffrey.

Olivander chuckled and replied "Hush, hush, boy, there is nothing to fear. I am but a simple wand-maker. I shan't tell anyone of your, er, _situation,_ now, what hand do you write with, boy?"

"R-right!" Joffrey faltered. "But I can sometimes use my left. Sir, I'd really like to know how it is that you are aware of my true name."

"Right then, Mr. Lannister- "

"Baratheon, actually." Joffrey corrected.

"Right then, Mr. Lannister," Ollivander repeated, making Joffrey twitch a little in annoyance. "Try this one. Beechwood and dragon heartstring. Nine inches. Nice and flexible. Just take it and give it a wave." Joffrey took the wand and (feeling foolish) waved it around a bit, but Mr. Ollivander snatched it out of his hand almost at once. Feeling annoyed that the man would not tell Joffrey of how he knew of his origins, Joffrey tried again "I think sir, it's about time you tell me how you know-"

"Maple and phoenix feather. Seven inches. Quite whippy. Try -"

Joffrey tried - but he had hardly raised the wand when it, too, was snatched back by Mr. Ollivander. _That. Was. It._ Joffrey needed to know what was going on at once. "MAN, IF YOU DON'T TELL ME, I SHALL DESTROY-"

"No, no -here," Olivander cut him off, yet again. "Ebony and unicorn hair, eight and a half inches, springy. Go on, go on, try it out."

Joffrey tried. And tried. Feeling stupider with every swish and flick of the wrist, and feeling more and more annoyed at the way Olivander just seemed to get happier every time the wands made no reaction to him. An idea struck Joffrey, what if maybe he couldn't actually do magic. He was a king, not a wizard. Perhaps the wand's lack of response was due to him being of another realm. "Sir," Joffrey asked after a few moments of inner contemplation "do you think that the reason I'm not being responded to is because I'm not from this world and have no magic?"

"Don't be silly boy, I'd know if you were a muggle-" ah, yes. Joffrey's new favourite word. "right when you entered this shop."

"But how?"

Olivander let out another one of his creepy chuckles. "Hush boy, don't question the mad, old wandmaker."

Joffrey watched as the strange old man made his way over to the shelves of wands and began to madly mutter to himself.

"Try this, Mr. Lannister." He said mysteriously, handing Joffrey an ugly stick.

Joffrey sighed and repeated what he had done for hours, he glared, swished and flicked. Nothing. And then suddenly a warmth spread over him and wind swished dramatically around him. He'd found the one. After being dramatically informed that his new stick was somehow related to Joffrey's enemy, 'Lord Shouldercourt' - and something about feathers - he left the store, feeling both disturbed and annoyed. He'd have to keep an eye on that crazed wand-maker to ensure there were no unnecessary leaks of classified information. What disturbed Joffrey was not so much how the man knew of his true name and origins, but more of how that may mean others may also know. And if other's knew, there they may be as crazy as that mad old baboon.

* * *

"Our king." The children chanted, in a devotion that would make grown men shiver.

Looking around the room, he smiled. Everything had turned out perfectly. Indeed, Joffrey hadn't even tried to win the loyalty of these children, they just seemed to swarm to him and offer their undying love without anything in return. ' _They new power when they saw it.'_ Joffrey had thought arrogantly, time and time again.

"Rise, you may, Sir. Cristopher." Joffrey spoke, trying to do his best impression of a god-like figure. The boy looked up at Joffrey and informed him of the week's important news. Apparently, there had been some sort of rebellion taking place across the recess grounds, led by a certain 'Keith'. Unluckily for Keith, Joffrey did not take kindly to threats of rebellion.

"Tell Mrs. Mary I want Keith's playground rights revoked. We need to send a message to the West, Sir. Cristopher, that we shall not tolerate treachery against the king. _The true king of the South._ If Keith wants to take away or peace he shall have to get past me." Joffrey said finally, chest puffed out in confidence and all.

"Your grace," Cristopher shook his head in denial. "How are we to be sure that Mrs. Mary shall even take notice of our concerns, that she would even bother to take action."

Joffrey chuckled and looked down at his new second-in-command. "Nae, she shan't deny us our rights. _I am the king of the south._ Now, come walk with me, Sir. Cristopher. _Get up."_

Joffrey stuck out his hand and offered a kind, reassuring smile.

* * *

"Platform nine and three quarters, platform nine and three quarters…" he muttered under his breath, glaring down at the golden ticket. This place was disgusting, it stunk and was filled with fat greasy people complimented with horrid _long cars._ Against the hustle and bustle of King's Cross station, Joffrey could only take solace in his own internal bickerings.

Glaring down the ticket, he felt a quick and painful pressure to his side. A realization hit Joffrey. Someone had pushed into him! How dare they! As Joffrey was about to get ready to kick someone in the crotch, he stopped. _What strange eyes_. They were the darkest brown he'd ever seen, almost black. He stared, utterly entranced by the soulless, almost golden sheen to the orbs. There was something odd about them, it was almost as though they weren't entirely human. As Joffrey's stare began to verge on inappropriate, Aegon-Thompson took it upon himself to sqwake accusingly up at his new owner, breaking Joff out of his trance for the moment. The mad king's eyes narrowed down at the owl. Joff realised what he had just done and his cheeks began to go a deep shade of pink in embarrassment. Ready to frantically apologise, he looked up. The eyes had gone, and all that could be seen was the glass ceiling of King's Cross station.

_Weird. Very weird._

"- packed with Muggles, of course -"

Joffrey almost jumped back in surprise. His new favourite word! He looked around frantically, trying to find the source of the noise. He spun around to find a plump, red-headed woman sporting an awfully knit, shabby green handbag and a sour face, accessorised by four, freckled children. Each pushing trunks much like Joffrey's - perhaps they would know where to go!

"Now, what's the platform number?" said the sour-faced ginger woman

"Nine and three-quarters" whined a small, miserable girl, who looked annoyingly like Sansa Stark, "Mum, can't I go…"

"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right, Percy, you go first"

An extremely arrogant looking ginger marched up to stand in front of his mother and dramatically sighed. Then he just, er, ran into a wall. Ran _through_ a wall, I mean. He just seemed to - uh - vanish. Joffrey blinked. And blinked. And blinked a few more times just to be sure.

"Excuse me, my lady," Joffrey started, extremely disturbed. The Plump woman turned to him. "Did your son just _run through a wall?"_

"Yes." The woman replied and looked at him demeaningly, like he had just asked why meat crisped up after it was cooked - or why when the sun sets, the moon rises.

"But how?"

The woman stopped looked at him curiously for a second. "Actually I'm not really sure-" a strange look dawned on her features and then she continued, "Its best not to question it, dear-"

"But why? Will someone hurt me if I do?"

" _No one- nothing._ Fred, you next," she said.

"Only joking, I am Fred," said the boy, and off he went. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone - but how had he done it? Joff shivered.

Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier he was almost there - and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.

"First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." said the ginger woman, pointing to a particularly unfortunate looking boy with unusually large hands, and then turning back to him.

"Now, all you have to do is run through the wall." she smiled reassuringly.

He pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked very solid. Because it was a wall. A solid wall. _A wall._ Joffrey breathed in and out slowly and reminded himself that if one of this lot could do it - he could do it to. Feeling confident in mind and shaking nervously in body - Joffrey ran. The barrier was coming nearer and nearer - he wouldn't be able to stop - the cart was out of control - he was a foot away - he closed his eyes ready for the crash.

BANG.

Pain. Joffrey's head was hammering and the world around him seemed to fade into one. The colours around him merged and his vision began to go blurry. Nothing hurt anymore. He could faintly see the horrible ginger hair of one of the weasels, looming over him. They were calling for him? Begging? He didn't really care. Why did this feel so horribly familiar? Ah - yes that's right, it had happened before. He shut his eyes and embraced the end. Black.

His eyes fluttered open. He was alive! But there was something strange- the air felt stiffer. Everything seemed quieter. The world around him felt completely _still._

Letting out a small breath, Joffrey placed a hand firmly on the ground and picked himself up. He was still in King's Cross station. He looked around. Where were all the people? There was nobody there. Nobody at all. _It was so very quiet._

_How odd._

Joffrey looked around. King's Cross didn't seem the same without the people. It didn't feel alive. It felt very dead. Joffrey shivered. He spun around.

Standing before him, on the concrete floor of King's Cross station, in full-body, was Ned Stark.

He felt his heart pound rapidly as he tried to process what was going on. He tried to force words to come out of his mouth, but they simply would not come. So, he just stood there, frozen in horror. Looking the most pathetic he had probably looked in his entire life.

Ned Stark was muttering something very quickly, but Joffrey couldn't hear what he was saying. The mad king slowly edged forward, but alas, he could not hear a thing.

"Joffrey," said Ned Stark, and he could finally hear it, "It's not your time."

His eyes widened in horror and a horrible feeling of pure dread washed over Joffrey.

_And then everything froze._

* * *

Gasping, Joffrey felt the wonderful feeling of cold air fill his lungs. He slowly opened his eyes to be met with the ugly freckled face of the plump woman.

"All right there, dear?" Joffrey suddenly realised he was in a very indecent position, and slowly got up.

"How long was I out?"

"Oh, only a few seconds." That was odd. Joffrey could have sworn it was at least a good five minutes. But what had just happened? Why were there no people? And most importantly, why was Ned Stark there? How could he be there, how dare he! This was _Joffrey's_ realm - his new playground. Joffrey shook his head. He'd think about it later. Something bizarre was happening every minute now, and it would not do well to dwell or look into past things too much. All he could do was go along with it until he actually had time to sit down and sort things out

"B-but what happened?"

"Why, I think you were _rejected_ by the wall. Actually _rejected._ Never in all my years, in fact, in the history of the entire wizarding world, has that _ever_ happened" the woman's face scrunched up in confusion, which promptly turned to outrage.

"You're not a-a _muggle_ are you?" she asked, scandalised.

"No, I don't _think_ so."

"Well," she huffed "there's only one way to find out. Pick up your cart and try again."

Not liking the tone she was using, Joffrey scowled and reluctantly picked up the cart and Aegon-Thompson's cage. He was hooting angrily at the woman, perfectly summing up Joffrey's own mood. He walked back a few paces so he could do a proper run-up. The Ginger woman glared. He'd show her.

Let's try this again;

_He started to walk toward it. People jostled him on their way to platforms nine and ten. Joffrey walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into that barrier and then he'd be in trouble - leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a heavy run - the barrier was coming nearer and nearer - he wouldn't be able to stop - the cart was out of control_

_\- he was a foot away - he closed his eyes ready for the crash -_

_It didn't come... he kept on running... he opened his eyes. A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven O'clock. Joffrey looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it._

Joffrey shook his head in disbelief and sighed. He had just walked through a wall. _A wall._ Things were really going mad. Looking at the _long car,_ Joffrey frowned. It was producing - smoke? The other cars didn't do that. He followed a group of loud teenagers up a few steps and into the long car and was pleasantly surprised. The interior was actually _rather nice._ There seemed to be different carriages divided along the walls. Were they carriages? They looked like them. Nice seats too, comfy-looking.

Tripping stupidly on a tuft of loose carpet, Joffrey mentally berated himself. He was going to have to act like the king he was! _Clatter, Thud._ Joffrey looked down. All his books. All his books had fallen off the cart. Joffrey was about to scream out in rage, but the window did it for him. _Smash._ Joffrey looked to the side, the window had shattered. Did somebody chuck something at it? Were they aiming for _him?_

"Want a hand?" Joffrey turned around. It was one of the red-haired twins he'd followed through the barrier.

"No," snapped Joffrey "I don't want your hand, I am in steady supply of hands myself." Kind of them to ask though, perhaps if Joffrey were to ever lose a hand he might go to them. The twin smiled.

"Oi, Fred! C'mere, I've found a kid I like."

"Don't put it like that, you creep." Joffrey heard from the other side of the long car.

With the twins' help, Joffrey's books had all been neatly placed back onto his cart.

"Thanks, if you are ever are in need of something, you may come to me," said Joffrey, pushing his sweaty hair out of his eyes.

"What's that?" said one of the twins suddenly, pointing at Joffrey's forehead.

"Blimey," said the other twin. "Are you?"

"He is," said the first twin. "Aren't you?" he added to Joffrey. Joffrey's heart rate began to quicken as he realised what they were implying. They knew who he was! But that was impossible, right - right?

"W-What?" said Joffrey, twitching nervously, ready to make a run for it.

"Harry Potter," chorused the twins.

"Oh, him - that guy" said Joffrey, almost sighing in relief. "I mean, yes- yes I am. I am _definitely_ Harry Potter. I am _undeniably_ Harry Potter. I am the most harry-est Potter you shall ever lay your eyes on. I am Harry, Harry is I."

One of the twins giggled slightly and the other one just laughed nervously. The holier one stepped forward, ready to take the lead.

"Ah-ha, well that's cool. I guess there's no doubt _you really_ are Harry Potter then." joked the twin, trying to ease the tension. Joffrey did not laugh. He just stood there with a blank expression, staring.

"Well, we should really go." said the other twin "Goodbye, Mr. Savior!"

"Fred? George? Are you there?" a voice called from the open door of the _long car._

"Coming, Mom."

With a last look at Joffrey, the twins hopped off.

Joffrey looked back through the long corridor. He walked, surveying it's interior, his hand running against the wall. Lights flickered ominously. The air became thicker. His breath caught in his thought. Something wasn't right. There were voices coming from the walls, echoing. They were pleading - begging for him to stop. Each step he took made his stomach twist with unease. His heartbeat was pounding rapidly. _Power was near._

And then he came to a halt. This compartment. There was something in _this compartment._ Everything else was telling him no - don't look, but his curiosity was begging for a quick peek. So he gave into the temptation, knowing that if it was not fed, it would surely devour him.

So, he looked. There, leaning against the walls of the compartment, was a boy. A good-looking one too - it was a wonder his compartment was not filled with other children right now. He was leaning with perfect grace and poise, looking down at the ground, in deep thought. His arms crossed. There was a wisdom in his dark, strange eyes. A wisdom that one could only gain through age. There was something unsettling about this child.

Joffrey opened the door, and as soon as he had, those peculiar eyes flicked up to meet with his own.

"H-hello," Joffrey stuttered, why was he so nervous? "I'm Harry Potter, of h-house P-Potter." He was beginning to sound like Quirrell.

The boy stared at him, his gaze cold and assessing. Joffrey looked deep into those black eyes, was that… confusion? Why was the child confused? He was immediately ripped out of his thoughts when the boy took a step forward. The child just _oozed_ power. He needed to befriend him.

"The name's Goldstein," The boy raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow and dramatically flicked a lock of his golden hair. A bolt of lightning hit the ground. "Anthony Goldstein."

Thunder roared from outside the train...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's notes~
> 
> I do not own Harry Potter, Game of thrones, or any of the characters mentioned in this story. All rights go to their respective owners.
> 
> Hey guys! I hope you enjoyed the third chapter, I am sorry for the late update. Life has been hectic. Please Kudos and comment. The fourth chapter is currently being written, I plan to make updates more frequent from now on.
> 
> *virtual hug*


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